


Who You Love

by Baamon5evr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Forbidden Love, Gen, Growing Up, Ned Stark Lives, Not Canon Compliant, POV Ned Stark, Romance is background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baamon5evr/pseuds/Baamon5evr
Summary: Ned reflects on love and his family throughout the years.[Or in which all the Starklings fall in love people they shouldn't and it causes Ned a few wrinkles and gray hairs.]





	1. Robb

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this story will take the format of a series of connected one-shots and will be canon-divergent. Lysa never sends a letter blaming the Lannisters for Jon Arryn's death, Bran was still pushed out of the window but they don't know it's Jaime. Robert and Ned are still alive.

One of the things Ned hated the most about being in King's Landing was the distance it put between himself and his family. He, Sansa and Arya in the South. Robb, Cat, Bran, Rickon and Theon in the North. Jon at the Wall. Ned detested it. He detested waking up in the morning and not having all his family there to greet him, to have a meal with him, to talk about their activities and their day, to share his warmth and hearth with. The distance also made some news he received horribly outdated, but over the year he'd been in King's Landing he tried to send as many ravens back and forth with Catelyn as he could. He had made a habit of reading the letters she sent with Sansa and Arya as a group to help bring them closer together.

Sansa was the one reading the latest letter Cat sent. She detailed how Winterfell was faring, how Bran was coming along after the fall and the depression he felt upon waking. That was a year past now and he still remembered nothing, but he found some will to live with Catelyn's encouraging presence by his side. He still had his bad days though. Sansa kept reading animatedly until she abruptly stopped, her eyes widening.

"What is it?" Arya asked, annoyed at the interruption.

"It's Robb." Sansa said mystified. Ned's brow furrowed in concern.

"Is he okay? Is he hurt?" Surely Catelyn wouldn't preface such news with a largely mundane recap of the affairs of the North.

"No, he's not hurt at all. Mother says... she says he's married." Ned's brow furrowed further.

"That can't be right, you're reading it wrong." Arya replied brashly, snatching the letter from Sansa and reading it herself before her eyes widened like Sansa's.

"He is married. To Dacey Mormont, according to Mother." Ned took the parchment from Arya as Sansa began lamenting missing the wedding.

_And then there is the matter of your eldest. Robb has gotten married to Lady Dacey of House Mormont without telling anyone. I have been trying, unsuccessfully, to have him meet with prospects from the Riverlands or the Vale, mayhaps even Lady Wynafryd Manderly but he has refused. He met Lady Dacey for all of a fortnight before deciding to go before the weirwood tree with Lady Dacey's sisters and Theon as witnesses behind my back and wed her._

Ned could tell just from the letter that Cat was not pleased and not just because she was not present for Robb's wedding but because she always wanted her children to marry Southern lords and ladies and Robb had married a girl that would probably make any Southern lady at court, and Sansa, tremble in their boots.

Ned remembered the Mormont girls. He had met them a few times on visits to Bear Island and when he had hosted them at Winterfell. Dacey was a tall girl with dark hair and dark eyes and a sword ever at her side. She was more likely to be wearing breeches and fighting leathers than a dress but was just as comfortable in either. Arya had adored her and her sisters when they met. He didn't notice anything between she and Robb then. Then again, Robb was six years her junior and the last time Dacey was in Winterfell, Robb was twelve.

Robb was mostly level-headed, even at a young age but he did have some sort of weakness for girls that Ned took note of. He wasn't as bad as Brandon had been, thank the Gods, but he liked flirting with maids and ladies and went into Winter Town with Theon when he thought Ned was none-the-wiser. Ned couldn't say if such a quick wedding was the result of him dishonoring Lady Mormont but if it was, Brandon certainly hadn't cared to marry any girl he dishonored, a good enough distinction to quell most of Ned's worry and questions.

Robb was eighteen now and had been acting Lord of Winterfell for a year and from what letters he got from Cat and Luwin, he'd been doing a fine job of it. In contrast to his wife, Ned didn't feel marriage was as much of a priority for him now so much as establishing himself, but Dacey Mormont wouldn't have been his first choice either. There were some obvious implications and complications from their union. Dacey had been the heir to Bear Island since Ser Jorah ran away from justice. With her marrying Robb, she would have to abandon her claim to her family's ancestral seat. Her younger sisters, Jorelle and Lyra, were already married with their own households. That left two more girls. Lady Alysane was more comfortable as a battle commander, Ned remembered. She had no problem fighting the men in the courtyard whilst her natural-born children watched but she didn't like courtesies and admitted she had no head for ruling. That left Lyanna Mormont, a girl Bran's age. Maege yet lived, she had time to train her youngest daughter to be Lady of Bear Island, but it was still a worrisome situation.

Despite that, he couldn’t leave King’s Landing for something like this and he didn’t want to pull Robb away from Winterfell for a conversation over it. He needn’t have waited too long though because soon a letter from his eldest reached him. He went over the happenings of The North in detail. He mentioned the growing unrest between the Night’s Watch and the Wildlings, who pressed more frequently on the Wall. He mentioned Bran’s progress in his studies and possibly fostering him if his mother ever let him go, perhaps in Riverrun. Lord Hoster had been asking after Bran more and more as Edmure became less and less reliable. He left Riverrun frequently to engage in what Robb said his grandfather called ‘wasteful follies not befitting the heir to Riverrun, follies that may see him dead and the Tully name with him’. Robb also spoke of Rickon, ‘a wild banshee of a child with little to no rearing but for Osha and Mother sometimes’. Ned was still uncertain of Robb’s decision to employ a wildling woman as a caregiver for his youngest, but she helped him channel his wildness, even if only a little and after some time Catelyn didn’t have many complaints over it. Rickon could be trying and tiring for his wife. He felt guilty about leaving her to deal with him by herself but Cat didn’t think the capital was a place where Rickon would thrive, so she stayed in Winterfell with him.

Eventually Robb got to the subject of his marriage.

_No doubt Mother has told you about myself and Dacey, even though I asked to be the first to tell you. I’m sure she made it sound as if it were an impulsive decision made with no care for the North or anyone else’s feelings on the matter. In truth, I thought much about it before I asked her. It is not a decision I made lightly. House Mormont is a small house, it is true, marrying Dacey did not bring as much benefit as marrying a girl from House Manderly or House Tallhart or House Karstark would but I feel Dacey understands my vision for the North and the future of our family more than Alys Karstark or Wynafryd Manderly could. She understands me and she supports me. Her six years give her more experience than me and it is sorely needed, even if I don't admit it often. She can run a household well but also understands how to fight and command guilds of guards and an army and that’ll be just as helpful and important in my future as having a wife who can run a keep._

_All this may sound like useless justifications for an action that you may look down upon, perhaps it is, but if nothing else all I can say is I love Dacey, well and truly. I believe she loves me too, at least I hope so. If I come to regret this decision I suppose I will have to take Mother’s ‘I told you so’, but as it is, I can’t see how I could regret it. Isn’t it better, though? Isn’t it easier already loving the person you are married to rather than hoping love will bloom between two strangers, with no guarantee it can. Not everyone is like you and Mother. You saw the queen and the king. I’d loathe a relationship like that._

_If my actions have disappointed you, I am sorry. All I can ask is that you give Dacey and myself a chance to prove ourselves as future leaders. Tell the girls we all love them and I miss them. I miss you as well, I hope you all visit soon. The boys would like to see you_.

Ned sighed a little as he put the letter aside. The thing was, he wasn’t disappointed with Robb. He didn’t truly have a judgement on the couple at the moment. Dacey Mormont was a perfectly agreeable woman, marriages had gone forward with greater age gaps than the two had and at the very least her being of the North would quell any who would have scorned Robb for marrying a Southerner but it was still a complicated situation.

 _Maybe they truly do love one another, he says they do anyway. They are already bound to one another though, so what can be done about it now either way? I hope that is true for their sakes and it is not a passing fancy. I won't protest but I hope they know what they're doing._ Ned thought to himself.

If nothing else he’d have to set aside time in the future to pay his son and his new gooddaughter a visit.

**~*~*~**

He didn't get them to return to Winterfell for months after that, not until his grandson was born. Robert had been reluctant to let Ned go but he was adamant that he go back to the North to meet his grandchild and check on things. Sansa chattered excitedly the whole way back to Winterfell and Arya tried to seem unaffected at the idea of having a nephew but was just as excited. Ned too tried to keep his excitement to a minimum, he was a man grown and the King's Hand, he could not go swooning like Sansa or smiling unabashedly like Arya.

It took all of his willpower not to run to Catelyn when they arrived to Winterfell but he managed to restrain himself and approach her at an acceptable pace, kissing her cheek softly but with promise for later affection. He lingered in her space for a moment before turning to Robb. They hugged tightly, slapping one another on the back.

"Winterfell is yours, Father." Robb proclaimed, nodding his head respectfully. Ned turned to look at the tall woman beside Robb. She was as beautiful as Ned remembered her being and taller than Robb by at least two inches. She wore breeches and a boiled leather breastplate while holding a squirming bundle in her arms. Her long raven hair was braided and hanging over her shoulder with brown eyes that were fiery but looked on Ned respectively.

"My Lord Hand." She said, bowing enough to show her respect but not so much as to disturb the babe she held. Ned didn't bother being offended that it was a bow rather than a curtsey, that was the way of the Mormont women.

"Lady Dacey, it is good to see you again. I apologize I was not able to come out sooner, I would've liked to have but matters at court kept me."

"I hold no offense, my lord. Besides, the wedding itself was very fast." She admitted plainly and without shame. A shade of embarrassment crossed Robb's eyes but he held it back in favor of continuing.

"Allow us to introduce our son and heir to you, Cregan." Robb said, happiness taken over his face as he looked down at the quiet babe in his wife's hands. Dacey moved the blanket so Ned could get a better look at him. He had a head of black hair like his mother and eyes Tully blue. His skin was pale but even at such a young age he had sharp features that denoted his Stark heritage. One of his arms flailed out of the blanket and Ned caught it softly with his finger, the babe squeezing lightly as he looked up at him. Ned couldn't help but smile back at him before looking up at the proud parents.

"You both did well." He complimented. They smiled at him before looking at one another with clear love in their gazes.

Ned was still unsure about whether or not this union would turn out to be a good idea but he knew for certain that these two did love each other and that was what he wanted for his children at the end of the day.


	2. Theon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Each new chapter is another year passed, except Theon and Jon which occur in the same year, ages are going off show ages not book ages.

Ned was never sure what to make of Theon's future. He had grown to care for the boy who he had taken as his ward but when he thought of what his life could be, it made him worry. The Iron Islands were a harsh place filled with harsh people and Theon could be fanciful at times, lack seriousness, refuse to consider consequences. Many times Ned had tried to steer him differently and it largely worked. He had come a long way from that abrasive boy who first entered Winterfell with a chip on his shoulder and a frown on his face but he still kept hold of his bravado. Ned knew why. Though not blood, Brandon was much the same way. He refused to let anyone glean anything hinting at weakness off of him and if you did, Brandon would oft get angry and pick fights or go out to a whorehouse and let off steam there.

Ned had gone back and forth over whether to take Theon with him to King's Landing but ultimately he decided the place was too much of a cesspool to throw him into. He'd get lost in it and he was better off with Robb than he would be in the capital. Sometimes he would discuss Theon's future with Robert, who had been keeping a close eye on the Islands as there were some rumblings about Balon Greyjoy possibly making plans to build up his fleet but nothing was substantiated yet. Still, Ned was surprised when he got a summons from Robert telling him that Robb planned to send Theon back to the Iron Islands.

Ned decided almost immediately to go back to Winterfell when it came time to see Theon off. Ned would never have made the decision to send Theon back while Balon yet lived, but Robb had pointed out the delineation that Theon would go to Harlaw where his uncle, Lord Rodrik, Aunt Gwynesse and ailing mother, Lady Alannys, resided and not Pyke. He would learn more about being Lord of the Iron Islands from him and not Balon. If he was going, that was the best place for him.

When the day came to leave, Theon shared goodbyes with everyone, some who seemed genuinely unhappy he was leaving. He always stuck out as the odd squid among wolves but he had been raised here and became a staple of Winterfell over the last decade. He shared a long hug with Robb and kissed Dacey's cheek, trying to coax a promise that she would name the child in her belly after him. She gave him a wry grin in response whilst holding she and Robb's son, Cregan, on her hip. Theon approached Ned then and kneeled before him.

"My Lord, I have been your ward for a long time, longer now than I was on my home island. You have taught me honor, justice and the difference between right and wrong. They are not lessons I will forget. I cannot say I won't stumble but I shall hold your lessons close to heart in those moments and know you gave me the tools to guide myself to the right choice." Theon said, his voice clear and deep. Ned almost didn't recognize the man kneeling before him. Something had changed about Theon since Ned had been in the capital, but two years could drastically change a person.

"Arise, Theon. Kneel not to me again. You came to Winterfell a boy but you are a man now and will soon be a lord. People will be counting on you, watching you. Some will wish you well and many will wish you ill. Keep your wits about yourself and you'll be fine." Ned advised.

Theon nodded in response before a look of indecision crossed his face and then he held out a hand to Ned. He took it without hesitation, clasping their arms in solidarity before Theon stepped over to the horses for his retinue of Iron Islanders who came to bring him home and Northmen who would act as Theon’s envoy as well. Some would stay with him at Harlaw to report back to Robb and Ned on his progress and the stability of the Islands.

However, watching after the retinue is when Ned noticed the red-haired woman who quipped something at Theon that made him seemingly blush. It took Ned a moment but eventually he recognized her as Ros, a whore from the fringes of Winter Town. He'd seen her in King's Landing working with Littlefinger. She had been gracious enough to tell him to look out for Sansa and Baelish and he'd noticed the weasel's fascination with his daughter almost immediately and put a swift stop to it. He knew her warning put her on notice from the craven, petty lord. Ned could've left her there to deal with him on her own, but she risked herself for his daughter, showing at least a part of her loyalty was still to the North. His loyalty was still to his people as well, so it wasn't hard to send her off with a wandering crow to ferry her back North to safety.

Theon had always had a penchant for whores, and no doubt they knew one another but surely he didn't think he could take her with him. He'd need to marry an Islander to help ingratiate himself back into that world.

Ros noticed him staring and approached him with a coy smile on her face.

"I must give my thanks to you as well, my Lord Hand. Were it not for you, Littlefinger would've handed me off to Prince Joffrey." Ned knew well what Joffrey did to the whores he brought to the castle. Ned tried to put as much of a stop to it as he could, forbidding any lords to bring whores to the keep at all but Robert thought it was making a man of his heir, not realizing Joffrey never laid with them. All it did was stoke his madness.

"You are of the North. It was my duty." Ros' lip quirked up at his answer.

"Still, thank you." Sansa came forward then and pulled Ros into a hug. They'd gotten close in King's Landing, despite Ros' station, which was a surprise knowing Sansa but the experience with the capital was changing her.

"I shall miss you terribly, Ros. You must write to me frequently. I'll want to know how you fare as Lady of the Iron Islands and I will give you advice anytime you need, never hesitate to ask." Ned's brow furrowed, and he frowned a little at the title. Ros noticed his expression over Sansa's shoulder and smiled wider, twisting her finger a little so a plain ring of iron became more obvious. Ned rose an eyebrow and glanced at Theon but didn't otherwise comment. He rejoined Catelyn in the line and they watched as Theon assisted Ros atop a horse and their party made their way out of the courtyard. Ned watched them go, memories of riding into Winterfell with a red-eyed but hard-faced Theon overwhelming him briefly as he watched him ride away. However, questions warred with that.

"He married her just before you arrived." Catelyn said, seemingly reading Ned's mind and sounding thoroughly annoyed.

"I didn't think he would. I thought he was joking when he said so, but he said he didn't want to leave everything behind and if there was only one thing he could bring with him, it was her so he proposed and she accepted." Robb further explained, catching the thread of their conversation.

"Ironborn wedding customs are quite something." Dacey commented dryly. Ned frowned a little. Theon would be better served marrying an Ironborn girl. He'd likely now have to fight harder to gain their respect, but Ned wasn't completely put off that Theon had married a Northern woman, whore or not. Ros had proven herself to be loyal to Ned's family when she risked her life for Sansa's safety.

"For whatever Ros is, she is loyal to the North. That's not a bad quality for her to have, especially if worst should come to worst and the Ironborn use his return to move against us." Ned said finally.

"Surely you don't think Theon would betray us." Robb said. Ned shook his head.

"Not Theon but Balon is another matter."

“I know. That is why I had him sent to his uncle Rodrik instead. I exchanged frequent correspondence with the man. He has no intentions of joining in on another uprising, nor would he condone one after what he lost in the first one.”

“Lord Rodrik Harlaw is not the Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands, Balon Greyjoy is. Caution cannot be thrown carelessly to the wind.” Ned said quietly.

"Winterfell should be fortified for an attack. The Ironborn cannot be trusted to simply stew on their islands." Cat promised. As a Riverlander, she would always remain wary of the Ironborn.

"We will all stay well prepared and I will be sure Sansa maintains a correspondence with Ros in the meantime as I am sure, Robb, you intend to do with Theon anyway." Ned replied simply. He was still worried about Theon's future, he couldn't deny that and his marriage did him no favors. Ned wondered if Brandon would ever have done such a thing. Perhaps given the chance, just to piss their father off. It would've been annulled hastily but his older brother would do it just for the drama and talk it would create and for a story to tell at a tavern,

 _'Let me tell you of that time I wed a whore. If only you could've seen my father's face.'_ He would've said.

Ned shook his head to dispel the thoughts. He hated remembering or imagining such things. Brandon was dead and Theon was gone now, that was that. Still, perhaps he'd keep up a correspondence with Theon, just to make sure nothing goes wrong and he maintains loyalty to the crown and kingdoms.

Or that's what he'll say if anyone asks him about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the shortest of all of the chapters, the next few will be much longer.


	3. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot more worldbuilding in this chapter than the previous ones.

Jon being at the Wall never sat well with Ned. He spent the boy’s whole life unsure what to do with him when he reached adulthood. He never thought to tell him the truth about Lyanna and Rhaegar, he never would, but him being at the Wall still sat heavy on him especially with Ned being in the capital. Had things gone differently, Jon would be in the Red Keep. He would be a prince. Had things gone differently he’d have grown up in the palace, but how? With Rhaegar and Lyanna and Princess Elia? Would the princess have been any more accepting towards Jon than Catelyn was? Ned didn’t know, he didn’t know the Dornish woman as well as he had known her best friend and lady-in-waiting from Starfall. He doubted any woman would be fine with their husband moving his mistress and their child into their home. Not for the first time he wondered what Lyanna was thinking but he couldn’t produce an answer now anymore than he could back then, so he pushed the musings away and focused on what he could do for the only survivor of their relationship.

As it was, he could do little for Jon. He was at the Wall with Benjen, a choice he had made and Ned had decided to respect despite his misgivings. The Wall still sent messages for aid all throughout the South. Ned endeavored to be sure the crown upheld their duties to the order as much as he could. Willing recruits were hard to come by, but he was sure to send weapons and food as often as he could. Jon sent ravens to Ned and Sansa but most frequently corresponded with Arya. Ned hadn’t heard of any trouble from Robb or Catelyn so he was understandably at a loss when Arya burst into his solar one day, her face red and fuming.

“You can’t let them execute Jon, you can’t! It wasn’t his fault! He was just doing what Qhorin Halfhand told him to do! And the stories are true, the Wildings are running from a serious threat and if they stay North of the Wall they’ll be worse enemies than before! Jon is telling the truth! You can’t let them do it!” Ned stared at her as she stood before him and Robert huffing as if she had run all the way to the room. To emphasize that point, Septa Mordane came into the room then, also out of breath and looking exasperated. She had enough of her bearings to curtsey to Robert before chastising Arya.

“You have gone much too far, young lady. To barge into your father’s solar in such a manner, and with the king present. Most uncouth. You are not a stable boy, you are a lady.” Robert chuckled then.

“She gave no offense. Her aunt was just the same, no care for propriety or manners.” Ned didn’t dwell on one of Robert’s many comparisons of his sister and daughter. It worried him. Arya was fourteen now. Lyanna was thirteen when she was betrothed to Robert. He shook the thought away and focused on Arya’s words.

“What’s all this about Jon being executed?”

“Bran said so in a letter. The master-at-arms at Castle Black, who is the acting Lord Commander since Jeor Mormont has still not been heard from after leaving to go beyond the Wall, wants to prosecute Jon for breaking his vows. Robb has ridden to the Wall to try to see what’s going on but Alliser Thorne has wanted Jon dead since he joined the Night’s Watch. He’s just upset because Jon is better than him and the men listen to him.” Ned was still confused and glanced over at Robert.

“Aye, we’ll leave you to it.”

“I honestly don’t know what any of what you’re saying means, Arya.” Ned said once Robert and Septa Mordane left, though the woman was much more reluctant to do so than Robert was. Arya opened her mouth as if to go on another rant, but Ned cut her off.

“Sit down, take a breath and explain slowly what is going on.” Ned listened as Arya chronicled what she knew from Jon’s letters. Jeor Mormont called a Great Ranging to investigate matters North of the Wall. Jon had gotten separated and captured by the Wildlings. He showed up to Castle Black weeks after and admitted that he killed Qhorin Halfhand and laid with a Wildling girl but also claimed that the Wildlings were pressing on the Wall because the Others were back and they led an army of the dead. Ned had raised an eyebrow at that. Arya shot him an annoyed look in response.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. You know Jon, you know he wouldn’t lie about something like that. What reason would he have to do that?” Ned nodded in response. It wouldn’t make sense of him to admit to breaking his vows and try to save himself by coming up with such a wild tale. Besides, telling such lies was not like Jon.

“You said Robb is going there to try to figure out the situation?”

“Yes, but you’re still the Lord of Winterfell, not just Hand of the King and you can go there and see that Jon is right and the Wildlings have to come South of the Wall.” Ned gave her a look. That was stretching it. Arya looked like she wanted to scream but another voice cut through the room before she could.

“She is right, you are still Lord of Winterfell and for whatever reason, the Wildlings do press an advantage far too often. You should go treat with them, treat with this Mance Rayder and see if what Jon says is true.” Ned and Arya looked up as Sansa stood in the doorway, a blank and open expression on her face. She had been changing as of late, maturing but also becoming more and more like Southron ladies. Ned knew not what to think of it. He blamed her closeness to Margaery Tyrell for it. But it was good in a way. Sansa’s strengths were not the same as Arya’s. She would need to defend herself in some way, especially if she was to be queen in this cesspool of a city (and he was still not as committed to the idea as Robert was).

“What do you know about it?” Arya asked brashly. Sansa rolled her eyes a little.

“I do exchange letters with Jon too, you know? You’re not his only sister.” She replied snootily.

“I thought you were just his half-sister.” Sansa held her nose higher and did not respond to Arya’s prod.

“What do you know of this, Sansa?” Ned asked, figuring it best to compare their stories. Sansa’s was much the same about Jon and the state of the Wall. Ned sighed after Sansa had finished.

“I can’t speak for Old Nan’s stories coming to life but Jon thinks this is true and he wouldn’t lie about something like this, so either he has gone mad or he is telling the truth. I’m sure the king will understand that family matters have called you away. You still have duties to the North and to Winterfell that cannot be neglected, as well as duty to family.” Sansa said diplomatically. Arya shot her a look that held surprise but appreciation at being backed up. The girls had been getting along better lately. Simultaneously, Sansa and the prince were getting along less and less. Not a good thing for a young couple soon to start a life together.

“Please Father. For us, for Jon. The king can survive a few months without you if your family needs you.” Arya pleaded. Ned looked at the girls. Arya was openly desperate and though Sansa hid it well, she too seemed perturbed. Ned knew he would never forgive himself if he stayed in King’s Landing while Jon’s life was on the line and the fate of the North may too be in the balance. He nodded silently and was heartened to see the girls’ faces turn up with relief.

They did not take a large party North, just Ned and the girls and fifteen guards. They travelled light, not wishing to be too delayed. They stopped off in Riverrun, largely because the girls’ grandfather wanted to see them as he laid on his deathbed but also because Catelyn was there along Bran, who had been living as Ser Brynden’s ward at the Vale and joined him when Lord Hoster fell too ill to continue ruling.

A part of Ned wanted to stay at Riverrun with Catelyn. She had been having a rough time lately. Lysa refused to leave the Eyrie to visit her ailing father, despite his requests. Edmure was still mostly M.I.A and when he was around he was bungling things up. So much so, that when Lord Hoster fell ill Ser Brynden had to return to Riverrun to help see about the affairs of the castle and the Riverlands. It was looking more and more like Riverrun would fall to Bran even if, against all odds, Edmure managed to live for much longer. Such a thing could throw the Riverlands into a state of chaos. Catelyn had to stay with Bran to help teach him about the land and how to rule such a place. However, despite his desires, Cat wouldn’t have him be deterred from the purpose of his journey.

“I do not know what that boy has been up to at the Wall but Robb is worried. I think it is best if you go sort out the matter.” Catelyn had said on their last day and little else about it. She and Jon never got along, Catelyn never able to accept his supposed bastard son and Jon having given up trying to please her as a child. He should’ve done something about them long ago but he never knew what to say, not wanting to outright lie to either’s face more than he already had and so he did nothing. A grave disservice to both, one he’d be judged for in the next life he knew. Ned had nodded quietly, knowing her worry was for Rickon, Robb and his children in the North and not Jon.

The Riverlands were also where they found an old friend in the form of Nymeria. Arya had been overjoyed at finding the wolf again. He wasn't entirely clear on the story, but Arya and Sansa had emerged from the woods with Nymeria trotting between them. She was huge now and Ned was cautious about her but she licked his hand upon seeing him before returning to Arya. Not for the first time he regretted what happened to Lady, especially when he saw the melancholy in Sansa’s eyes at Arya's restored relationship with her wolf.

Winterfell wasn’t as bustling as usual when they arrived but was in order and occupied by Rickon, Dacey, Cregan and Thea. At two and nearly one respectively, his grandchildren were happy children with dark hair but where Cregan carried eyes Tully blue, Thea carried dark brown eyes from her mother whose stomach was swelling with a third child. Dacey greeted them all diplomatically and happily, bowing for Ned and kissing Sansa and Arya’s cheeks.

Rickon was wilder than Ned truly knew what to do with and now he could truly understand Robb’s desperate letters regarding him, especially after Bran went to the Eyrie and then Catelyn went to Riverrun. The nine-year-old boy had literally tackled Arya when they arrived. Arya hadn’t minded at all, the two wrestling in the dirt and grass with Nymeria and Shaggydog mirroring them while Dacey smiled down at them with amusement, Sansa sneered with disgust and Ned tried unsuccessfully to get them to part and put enough meaning in his words. Rickon hugged Sansa despite the dirt all over him and even though she voiced her disapproval, she hugged him back tightly.

“Did you come to fight the White Walkers, Father? I wanted to go fight them with Robb and Dacey did too but we had to stay here and take care of the keep and the people.” Rickon said after Ned embraced him.

"A very important job. I've told you, protecting the people isn't just swinging a sword, there are other ways." Dacey pointed out. Rickon looked skeptical at best of her words.

“Dacey is right, people need to eat and have shelter as much as they need physical protection. But don't worry, I will go to the Wall and see about the matter. Your sisters will stay here with you and Dacey.” Arya immediately protested and, surprisingly, so did Sansa.

 

“I want to see Jon. I haven’t seen him in years, and I want to see the Wall. It’s not fair.” Arya protested, not at all putting on any airs about her purpose.

“I can help with the diplomacy. I have been learning from Margaery and her grandmother, you will need me.” Sansa protested sensibly.

 

“Oh please, you only want to go because Jon says he has a direwolf for you.” Arya retorted.

“That’s not the only reason. I keep telling you, he's my brother too.” Sansa replied hotly.

"You never cared before."

"That was years ago!" The two then descended into an argument and Ned ignored them in favor of his grandchildren, not wanting to get swept into one of their bouts.

In the end, Ned did bring them along, mostly because Sansa had been getting quite good at diplomacy and might provide a softer touch. As for Arya, he did leave her behind at Winterfell with Rickon, Dacey and the children but she stowed away in Sansa’s trunk and popped out when they were far enough away from Winterfell that he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) send her back. Ned had felt like something wasn’t quite right, he felt like eyes had been watching their group and the answer came when Nymeria joined them upon Arya’s appearance. Sansa had tried to seem innocent in Arya’s scheme, but she didn’t lie half so convincingly to Ned and he saw right through it.

When they arrived at the Wall, they were surprised to see there were already a large number of Wildlings settling into the Gift and the New Gift. Among them were men dressed all in black, signaling them as members of the Night’s Watch. Ned was surprised to see they were interacting quite civilly with one another, bar some hate-filled glares tossed between the groups. They stopped as Ned took in four familiar figures among the men in black, the grey and white direwolves easily making the small group of seven noticeable. There was also another direwolf, a black and white one with bright blue eyes as large as Grey Wind standing next to Ghost.

 

Arya immediately hopped off her horse in excitement before Ned could stop her, shouting Jon’s name as she ran along among the fur-clad masses. The group turned and Jon had just a second to be surprised before Arya threw herself into his legs. When Ned and Sansa had dismounted and joined the party, Arya was still hanging off Jon’s waist whilst Robb and Benjen watched with amusement and Lord Commander Mormont and the others waited patiently for Ned to arrive.

“Lord Commander.” Ned greeted formerly, clasping the man’s hand as Sansa curtsied quietly.

“Lord Hand, I am surprised to see you here.” Jeor said, his face betraying none of that surprise.

 

“I came with all haste. My daughters were quite concerned for their brothers and would not see me leave the matter, such as I’m sure will be explained to me, to chance. Though you seem to have worked it out just fine amongst yourselves.” Ned replied, shooting a glance at Sansa and Arya who did not seem contrite in the least as Sansa sidled up to Jon’s other side, delicately pushing Robb out of the way and pressing a kiss to Jon’s cheek before lacing her arm through Robb's. Ned was surprised by the display of sisterly affection. Sansa was always distant from Jon, from all of her siblings save Rickon who she liked to treat as her practice child. But Jon did not seem as surprised as Ned, only showing a brief flicker of uncertainty before accepting the affection.

 

“I am capable of brokering peace on my own, you know. Thanks for the votes of confidence, girls.” Robb said indignantly. Arya stuck a tongue out at Robb but didn’t otherwise speak while Sansa blushed a little but most of her attention was on the unnamed direwolf who was staring at her curiously.

“Snow, get back to the castle. We need to make sure the flow of movement is steady. See if there have been any more reports of the other gates. Take your siblings with you so myself and Mance may speak to the Hand.” Jon nodded dutifully and Ned watched as he, Robb, the girls and the direwolves walked away. Ned noticed Jon exchange a look with a red-haired Wildling woman in the crowd. She glared a little at him but Ned didn’t think anything of it.

The explanation for all of the changes and activities given to him was one of fantastic proportions. Ned wasn’t a man prone to myths and legends or a belief in omens or prophecies. Things such as that never ended well in his experience. If he had not known Jeor for some time and known him to be a serious and practical man, if Benjen had not been there having seen these monsters beyond the Wall, if Mance Raydar and his wife Dalla and right-hand man Tormund had not backed up these claims, if Alliser Thorne had not admitted (albeit with much pressing from Benjen and Lord Commander Mormont) that strange happenings were kicking up and concessions may need to be made then Ned would not believe their stories of White Walkers and wights.

Thankfully, with the Wildlings coming from beyond the Wall numbering in the hundred thousands, that meant less men for these creatures, even though who could say how many the Others already had in their army and who could say how many Wildlings had truly passed through the Wall? Getting an exact number would be a long process, especially since the migration was still in progress. Lord Commander Mormont felt better about their chances now with a true army settling in the Gifts and moving to man the other castles on the Wall that were currently unoccupied. Ned knew he was going to have to go back to Robert and try to explain what was taking place here and then there were some lords in the North who would not be pleased with these decisions. The Karstarks came to mind. The Umbers as well. The Mormonts were on the fence. Jeor might’ve written to his sister or Dacey to her mother and explained the situation as it was. Either way, Ned knew this was a transformative time in the North. Something must’ve showed in Ned’s face that was misconstrued because the big Wilding, Tormund, spoke up then.

“Don’t worry yourself, Stark. We’ll not kneel any time soon to your Southern king, but we’ll fight with your sons. We’ll follow them. They’re both prettier than my daughters, your little lords, but they’ve proved themselves to me.” Ned had several things he wanted to say but he zeroed in on one phrasing.

“Lords?” He questioned. Benjen answered him this time.

“A stipulation to stay Jon’s execution. He did break his vows to the Watch, for good cause but still. Robb, of course, would not have his brother die despite how many vocally called for his head.” Benjen cut a nasty eye at Thorne who seemed unfazed by the scorn.

“The bastard broke his oaths, plain and simple.” Thorne answered, his face screwed up in anger.

“You and your bloody oaths. Maybe it’s that you haven’t laid with a woman in years that’s got you so tight up and angry.” Dalla, Mance’s wife, commented. Thorne shot her a glare. Ned studied the man briefly before turning his attention back to Benjen.

“Robb advocated the Wil—Freefolk coming past the Wall but there need be certain rules set in place and enforced. The Gift and New Gift are large after all, 50 leagues of land, with enough abandoned settlements in it to spawn many new Northern Houses. It's a lot of new people to ingratiate into the North and Robb doesn't know them as well as Jon does so he has decided to name his brother Lord Jon Stark, Warden of the Gifts, to rule over the newly named Freelands as it's lord from the largest of the many holdfasts in the area, Blackguard. Others will settle in the other holdfasts and towers here as smaller Houses, Lords in their own rights but vassals to Jon and bannermen to Robb. The holdfasts not in disrepair will be settled immediately as we repair others. Others who don't wish to start houses will go on to repair, populate and garrison the abandoned castles along the wall: Westwatch-by-the-Bridge, Queensgate, Oakenshield, Rimegate, Stonedoor and Woodswatch-by-the-Pool. Deep Lake and Sable Hall are all but ruins but we'll see what repairs, if any, can be done before they are ready for human habitation. We have also been contemplating the Nightfort but with recent discoveries, perhaps Old Nan’s stories about that place were not far off.” Ned nodded slowly in reply. Old Nan’s stories might just come in handy now after all.

His mind still was settled on Jon being made lord of the newly named Freelands, along with the Wildlings, former enemies of the North. Fifty leagues of land inhabited by Wildlings granted to a man perceived as a bastard who broke his oaths to the Night’s Watch. It was not a good look to the rest of the North, but Ned could not say he was particularly upset about it. Thinking of Jon this way, a lord with his own people and lands, did make him feel mildly better than to think of him bound in service to the Night’s Watch. He wondered what Cat would think of this. He doubted she would be happy, especially since Robb legitimized Jon without even saying anything about it to Ned. Robert hadn't said anything either. Perhaps Ned had been on the road at the time. He decided he needed more information that could only be granted by his children and so he paid greater attention to larger matters at hand rather than Jon's new lordship.

He spent hours in the Freelands with the group, meeting with Wildling, or Freefolk, chieftains and leaders and learning what he could from their stories about the evils beyond the Wall. The more he learned the more he knew Robb made the right decision working with the Lord Commander to have the Freefolk brought past the Wall.

It was nightfall when he, Benjen, Ser Alliser and Lord Commander Mormont rode back to Castle Black. It was dinner time and the dining hall was full of Night's Watchmen and Freefolk who had settled at the Wall. There was a clear division in the room, Freefolk on one side and Watchmen on the other but there were a few tables where the groups mingled and it didn't seem like it was going to come to blows between them. Hopefully everyone would follow that example. At one such table, Jon, Arya, Sansa and Robb sat with four other Night's Watchmen and three wildlings. One was the red-haired woman he'd seen glaring at Jon earlier. She was sat pressed close to him, whispering something in his ear and he was blushing at whatever she was saying.

"That's Ygritte." Benjen explained, having caught him staring.

"The girl he laid with?" Ned questioned.

"Aye. Seems we caught them at a better time. Always bickering those two, as if they've been married longer than you and Cat and not a month or so." Ned wheeled around on Benjen fast enough to draw a laugh from his brother.

"Married by Freefolk standards anyway. By their customs, in marriage a man is meant to steal a woman away from her clan and a woman is meant to fight him every step of the way. It's considered especially blessed when the red wanderer is in the Moonmaid. The red wanderer was bright the night Jon captured Ygritte and since he did capture her, according to her, they're married. He protests but I don't think he minds that much. And he's a lord now, he'll need a wife to make heirs and strengthen his holding in the Gifts. An army of dead men doesn't stop the way the world works, does it?"

"I suppose not." Ned replied, when he was able to reply.

"You're brooding." Benjen pointed out.

"I'm thinking." Ned replied.

"The lad's been through a lot, Ned. Trust me. He deserves this. She's good for him. I believe he truly loves her." Ned observed the two for a while more. Ygritte was still talking to Jon and whatever she was saying was making him smile brightly, however reluctantly. It was rare to see such a smile on his face for anyone other than his siblings, and even then his smiles were still rare.

 _What would you say to this, Lya, your son in love with a Wildling woman? I'd bet you'd get a kick out of this._ Ned thought to himself.

In some ways, he got horrible flashes back to Lyanna and Rhaegar but Jon wasn't his parents, he was himself and it seemed like he and Ygritte had already figured out things and they would not face consequences the likes of which Lyanna and Rhaegar did.

 _I raised him and he is a good man. He will be okay._ Ned reassured himself as he made his way over to meet his new gooddaughter.


	4. Sansa

Ned had always worried about Sansa's future. She had always wanted to be a princess and little else seemed to matter to her. With age came wisdom and by the time the truth about Cersei's children came out, it didn't seem to matter to Sansa that Joffrey was suddenly not a viable candidate for marriage and that he was now a fugitive and a bastard born of incest on top of that. She had taken it with unusual stride. She expressed her regrets that Tommen was thrown into a life of instability, running away with Cersei and Joffrey, and spoke of her joy that Myrcella was safe from the king’s wrath in Dorne with her soon-to-be husband, Prince Trystane, however she didn’t mention Joffrey at all or express any remorse or anger at the broken betrothal. Arya hadn't been as dumbstruck as Ned had been by Sansa's nonchalance at the situation but didn't comment on it.

Ned didn’t have as much time as he would’ve liked to sit down and have a conversation with Sansa. Robert did not want to remarry and he had many bastards out in the world. All of them were being tracked down and brought to the Red Keep so they could be assessed and refined, trained in the ways of nobility and possibly royalty if Robert couldn’t be convinced to remarry and try for a legitimate heir. Ned, if he was forced to choose, favored Edric Storm. He was born of Robert’s tryst with Lady Delena of House Florent, giving him noble blood on both sides and allies in the Reach. He had grown up at Storm’s End, learning at the feet of maesters and castellans, getting a lord’s education. Renly was unmarried and as it was, Edric stood to be his heir and inherit Storm’s End. Now he might have to ascend to the throne. He was young enough still to be taught the proper ways to rule and Renly had showered the boy in praise and adulation, not that Robert cared, which was why Ned was handling the delicate matter of his succession before it became more of a disaster.

Arya had no problem befriending the gaggle of bastards that now walked the halls. She made friends with them all but was especially partial towards Gendry Waters, Ora Storm and Meria Sand. She was more comfortable with them along with Shireen Baratheon than she had ever been with Joffrey, Tommen or Myrcella. Sansa didn’t attach herself to any of the newcomers and was apathetic about the shift. If anything, she stuck even closer to her friend Margaery Tyrell and her cousins.

Ned was wary of the friendship. He was wary of the Tyrells. He remembered facing off against them during the Rebellion. There was no love lost between himself and Mace Tyrell in those regards (nor he and Stannis for that matter) but Sansa did not let old things like that deter her from making friends with the little roses. Often Ned would see Sansa and Lady Margaery walking the gardens together, without Megga, Alla and Elinor, laughing arm-in-arm. In fact, before the revelation about Cersei and Jaime, Sansa had been spending less and less time with Joffrey and more and more time with Margaery.

The Tyrells’ arrivals to the capital coincided with Sansa’s personal growth and her disillusionment with Joffrey. She never outright asked Ned to break the betrothal but there were times when she could not hide her disdain for the golden-haired prince. Ned knew the boy was no gentle, honorable knight and Cersei’s secrets being revealed were both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it broke Sansa from being bound to Joffrey for life, and a curse because now Ned was running himself into the ground trying to keep Robert’s anger at bay so a war with the Westerlands was not provoked. The crown was in debt enough, the last thing they needed was to have to fund a war over Robert’s pride. Ned was happier everyday knowing he had successfully managed to protect Jon from this level of hatred from his friend and king.

Ned found himself tiredly walking the halls of the Tower of the Hand. He was meant to have spent another hour or two with Robert, but he had sent him away once he grew frustrated with Ned’s reluctance to see Cersei and her children killed. Even Ser Jaime, who was still locked up in the black cells awaiting Robert’s decision, could be useful at the Wall thanks to his swordsmanship. Robert fought Ned on that point and didn’t care that the longer Jaime remained in the city, the threat that Robert could take his head any moment looming over House Lannister, was yet another moment Lord Tywin could decide to march on the capital or begin raiding villages in retribution. There were already reports that Gregor Clegane had a gang of men in the Stormlands and was pillaging villages along the marches. Ned had had to coordinate with Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven and Lady Winnette Wyl of the Boneway to dispatch justice onto the rogue band, who Lord Tywin had disavowed knowledge of “categorically”. It wasn’t an easy negotiation. The houses along the Dornish Marches were notoriously antagonistic, but thankfully Lord Beric had been endeavoring to smooth relations between himself and those houses, and his wife, Lady Allyria Dayne of Starfall, only helped to smooth over the agreement. Many of Clegane’s men had been captured by the Wyl and Dondarrion men but not their leader yet. Varys had informed Ned that his little birds sung songs of a Red Viper joining the fray to knock down a mountain, he was expecting to hear news that they had succeeded any day now.

Ned let out a heavy sigh. There were now more gray hairs than he cared to count sprouting from his head and not a few thanks to Robert. He wondered what Cat would say if she could see him. Probably warn him against letting Robert stress him out too much but also tell him to continue to press him.

He stopped on his way to his chambers by Arya’s room and peeked inside. She was already asleep. He shook his head as he took in the various articles of clothing and accoutrements strewn across the floor. Most would say daughters were better served raised by their mothers and sons by their fathers, but here Ned was with Arya and Sansa whilst Catelyn stood by Bran’s side at Riverrun even firmer after both Hoster and Edmure’s recent deaths. Cat mourned her brother but was hardly surprised when one of his reckless endeavors finally saw him killed.

He moved on to Sansa’s room then. He expected to also find her asleep, what he did not expect was to see his daughter laying on the bed with Margaery Tyrell above her kissing her neck. Ned must’ve made some noise because Sansa’s eyes popped open and widened with shock.

“Father!” She said with surprise and fear in her voice. Both girls quickly sat up and looked at him with abject terror. Ned felt… he wasn’t even sure. Mostly just exhausted.

“Father, I—” Sansa began but Ned waved her off, feeling a headache pounding in his temples. He couldn’t even think enough to want to begin trying to unravel what he had seen or what to do about it.

“Tomorrow. You will make your way back to your chambers Lady Margaery, and you will sleep now Sansa. We will talk tomorrow.” He decided and walked out without another word.

A bed had never felt so inviting as it did when he fell into it that night.

**~*~*~**

The morning found him slightly more refreshed, having been woken by a servant and given breakfast and watered-down wine to drink. He usually ate breakfast alone as he never woke at the same time as Arya and Sansa did. The alone time gave him time to contemplate. Now that he had time to do so, shock was setting in. Sansa was affected by the Lady’s Kiss. It wasn’t something that was unknown to Ned, Lyanna had had a touch of it, women being attracted to other women. Maesters treated it as a disease to be routed out if it didn’t lose its effect with age. Septons and septas would be much harsher about it if they were to find any woman thus inclined. Ned certainly wasn’t going to surrender his daughter to the untrustworthy hands of either religion or science in this city. He’d sooner be consumed by maggots than let Maester Pycelle strap her to a table and go rooting around her head and risk turning her into a simpleton or let the High Septon lock her in a cell and break her down until she complied with the Seven’s teachings or died. The mere thought of it nearly turned him off his breakfast.

Sansa had always dreamed of knights and princes to rescue her and take her to their castle where she could have their babies and live happily ever after. When did the prince become a princess in her head? When had the knight morphed into a lady? Why had Ned not seen it?

He looked up as a knock sounded on the door.

“Father, it’s me.” Sansa said on the other side. She was early but Ned sighed, it was better to have answers than to keep piling on questions so he admitted her entry. Sansa entered fully dressed, looking as if she’d been up for hours. She had a look on her face that wasn’t one he’d ever seen on her before, she looked ready to do battle. She sat across from him, her posture rigid and closed off.

“You must have questions.” Ned nodded, formulating his thoughts before asking.

“How long has this been going on?”

“A year now.”

“That long?” Ned asked, his eyebrows raised.

“We were careful.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Margaery’s cousins, possibly her grandmother, her brother, Arya and now you.”

“Why… how did this start?”

“She has been a friend to me, teaching me much and opening my eyes to other things, things I chose to ignore. Joffrey was cruel and unstable. I didn’t want to tell you about Joffrey’s crueler moments, but he was truly horrid. Other than scaring me at times and implying things that were not right at best, insane at worst, he… hurt me. He hit me a time or two... or more.” Ned clenched his fist under the table. The rational part of him told him Joffrey was long gone but mostly Ned wanted to strangle the boy.

“Why did you not tell me this?”

“I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position. King Robert was so determined that Joff and I marry, I knew that no matter what you said he would not change his mind and if you pushed too hard… I didn’t know how he would react and so I kept it hidden away. I’ve seen King Robert do the same to Qu— Lady Cersei at our private dinners. I thought if she could handle it, I could too.” For however much Sansa was turned off Joffrey, she had idolized Cersei in a way Ned couldn’t understand. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she would try to follow her example in something like this.

“If something like this ever happens Sansa, you need to tell me. I can’t protect you otherwise.” Ned replied for lack of anything else to say. Sansa looked at him with some repentance.

“I’m sorry for not telling you. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, it just all felt more complicated at the time, Joff was a lot to handle and ladies aren’t meant to talk about such things.” If there was anything Sansa was, it was a lady.

“I will be more honest in the future.”

“And Lady Margaery?” Ned asked, getting back to the topic at hand.

“She helped me. She helped me cover bruises if I asked, was a shoulder to cry on and a willing ear. She saved me more than once from having to be left alone with Joffrey or from these women here at court, the awful lot of them. I’m certain she was not always altruistic in her interest in me, her father wants her to be queen and mayhaps wanted her to usurp my position as Joffrey’s betrothed, but that’s not what happened. I was the one who first kissed her. I initiated it, not her. I was the one who convinced her we could continue, even when she wanted to stop so I was not endangered due to my position. I know it is not natural, I know it is one of the worst things a lady could do, I know septons and maesters alike look down upon it, Mother would be…” Sansa trailed off, that same fear that was in her eyes when he caught her now filtering back in. Ned hated to see her that way.

“It’s been going on a year, so I am sure I know the answer to this question, but are you sure it is not just a passing fancy or curiosity?”

“It isn’t. It’s not curiosity, it’s not a passing fancy. I’m not confused or possessed or addled or insane. Marge isn’t blackmailing me or coercing me or taking advantage of me. I love her and she loves me, she is my Florian.” Ned had never heard Sansa say anything with such conviction. She was the most Tully-looking of his children but in this moment he could see the wolf beneath her coloring.

“You have given me much to think about and I will give it the amount of time it deserves before I figure out a solution.” Sansa looked unhappy with the answer but accepted it with a nod.

“Have you eaten anything today, sweetling?” Sansa shook her head. Ned gave her what was left of his breakfast. Despite the many times he’d told them to refrain, the kitchens piled his plates fuller than he would eat with more food than he was comfortable with being cooked. Winter was coming, food needed to start being rationed soon otherwise they’d have a mass of starving smallfolk early into the season. The Reach would be invaluable then. King’s Landing could get some foodstuffs from Dorne, fruits and rice mostly, perhaps glass for indoor glass gardens, but The Reach would be the bread basket of the realm come true Winter. An alliance with them could not be downplayed.

Sansa had mentioned that Lady Olenna probably knew about she and Lady Margaery. Ned wouldn’t doubt it, the older woman was eagle-eyed and cunning. House Tyrell was in an interesting position. There were four children to carry on the legacy. The oldest and heir, Willas, was crippled and unmarried, mayhaps because of his crippling, but he was intelligent and learned Ned was told. Garlan was a knight and already wed but without any children yet and spent much of his time away from Highgarden. Loras was next, a third son which meant lowered prospects, no land to inherit, but he was a fine knight and a notable fighter. Beyond that, most everyone at court knew why he was unmarried and was aware of the nature of his relationship with Renly. Now Margaery, also unwed, was in the same boat as Loras. House Tyrell was on the cusp of continuing their dynasty but any push in the wrong direction could see to the house’s destruction if alliances and marriages weren’t made carefully.

Thinking more about it as Sansa quietly ate across from him, he was certain he could propose a deal with Lady Olenna that would be agreeable to them both. He spent some more time thinking it over and doing research to confirm that his idea could in fact come to fruition before he went out to locate Lady Olenna, who he found in the gardens just past midday. She was surrounded by little roses, hard at work embroidering. She was going off on a diatribe to them about house words.

“Another golden rose – how original. I eat from plates stamped with roses, I sleep in sheets embroidered with roses, I have a golden rose painted on my chamber pot. As if that makes it smell any better. Roses are boring, dear. Growing strong, hah! The dullest words of any house. Winter is coming! Now that’s memorable. I’m certain you agree Lord Stark.” The lady said as he came into view.

“I’m sure that’s what was intended when my ancestors elevated the words to our house motto. A memorable warning.” Ned replied politely to the silver-tongued older woman.

“Just so. What nefarious deeds have us roses done to be visited by a direwolf, I wonder?”

“There is a delicate and urgent matter I need to address with you. Alone, if possible.” Lady Olenna rose an eyebrow.

“You heard the Lord Hand. Out, the lot of you!” She ordered her gaggle of granddaughters and grandnieces. The girls fluttered away immediately, dispersing to various parts of the gardens.

“Please do sit, my lord. Enjoy a fig, why don’t you?” Ned nodded and took a fig for civility sake.

“Should I expect a band of men to come after me?” The lady asked with an amused tilt of the mouth.

“I would assume it’s not necessary.”

 _Not now anyway._ He thought in his head.

Lady Olenna’s lips tilted even higher, like she could read his thoughts.

“Then I must say, I’m at a loss over what this conversation could be about.” Ned sat up straighter before continuing. He would never like the south, but he had learned what strategies worked here just as well as in the North and what didn’t. He would not talk in code and dance around an issue but if he made sure to impress upon the woman that this deal could be as much for her benefit as his, then political acrobatics usually could be subverted.

“I believe I have a proposal that could be advantageous for both House Tyrell and House Stark’s unique positions in regard to Sansa, Margaery and Loras.” Lady Olenna stared at him for a moment before she let out a small chuckle.

“I was wondering when you would realize. You men can be so dense to such things.” Lady Olenna said, pouring a goblet of wine for them both.

“It was hard not to notice, seeing as how I walked in on Sansa with your granddaughter.” Ned replied, taking the goblet gratefully. He wasn’t going to admit to the lady how oblivious to it he was until he saw them together, an experience he’d rather not think on or repeat with any of his children ever again.

“A shocking scene, I’m sure.”

“I was too tired to be shocked.”

“I must say, you’re handling it well. If it were my oaf of a son, he’d be screaming and babbling about propriety and piety loud enough for the dead to hear. He could’ve used some of that Northern coolness about him. I should’ve sent him off to foster back when your grandfather, Lord Beron, asked me to. He’d have been better off for it. But there’s nothing for it now. Ladies spend so much time together, pent up and repressed, it’s only natural that all that zest for life be channeled somewhere. As for Loras, a sword swallower through and through.” Ned discretely choked on his wine but did his best to cover it up.

“Boys’ blood get hotter swinging around swords all day, only surrounded by other boys. Margaery is partial to both sexes while Loras is not, there is nothing that will change him. Trust me, I’ve tried. A waste of time.” The older lady justified.

“I’m not here to discuss how to change them, there is nothing that could be done that I would ever allow my daughter to be put through. Things like this can only stay secret for so long. Much of everyone here at court knows about Loras and Renly but the realm at large does not, and no one knows about Sansa and Margaery. Renly needs to be wed. He is the lord of Storm’s End and beyond that, House Baratheon’s future has been reduced to legitimized bastards and a sickly girl. Renly must produce children soon. All of them need to be wed.”

“That is true enough. At present, we have four young people of perfectly marriable age. However, it will seem strange for you to wed your eldest daughter to a third son who will stand to inherit nothing. That will set tongues wagging all on its own and rumors will spread more than they have already.”

“He will not inherit nothing and neither will Sansa. There is a keep near Storm’s End, half a day’s ride away, called Black Sable. It was the property of the now extinct House Toyne. The keep has been shifted from hand to hand but is currently unoccupied. It’s one of the average-sized keeps but there is a small town at the feet of it, 200 people that would be theirs to care for and protect, fertile land good for farming and keeping animals. Good roads nearby to drive trade and travel. They would still be close to Lord Renly and Lady Margaery but far enough away to make their homes with their respective spouse. I would give Sansa a sum of money to help them set themselves up. They would be a cadet house of House Tyrell. I would also impress upon Sansa the importance of producing children as there has not been another generation of the Tyrell children just yet. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but House Tyrell’s future isn’t in any better position than House Baratheon’s. Some would say it’s in worse shape. None of your branch’s youngest generation has produced children, and three of the four of them is unwed. Lord Willas’ prospects are down due to his crippling and Ser Loras’ are down due to his being a third son. Margaery is a good prospect for any man but a particularly good one for the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Master of Laws and brother of the king. Loras would be marrying above his station and creating a branch of his own, as would Sansa. As my eldest daughter, for her to help create a house of her own is not so out of the realm of possibility, especially given her history with Joffrey.” Lady Olenna spared him an interested, mayhaps even impressed, look.

“You’ve given this much thought, more than my fool son and his drab of a wife ever have or ever would. I’ve told them time and again their children need to be married. Garlan only is because he willed it, found “love” with Lady Leonette he says.” Lady Olenna’s tone said all that needed to be said about her feelings on that.

“Your son, Robb, went off and married for love as did your ward and your bastard, I’m told. We can spin that Sansa and Loras fell in love and after what happened with that little beast, Joffrey, you allowed the match to be made. House Tyrell and House Stark came to an agreement and together, set the two up at Black Sable.” Ned nodded in reply.

“Then we have an agreement.”

“We do.” Ned nodded again as he stood up.

“I would like to speak to Sansa and my lady wife before anything is announced, but the sooner they are all good and married and off to the Stormlands, the better.”

“Agreed. Do visit me here again, I’m sure there are other things we need discuss, Winter is Coming after all. Be sure to bring me a list of marriable Northern girls when you do return, you’re right about Willas, he need be married and soon.” Lady Olenna said as he began to walk away.

“And Lord Stark? It is always a pleasant experience to be surprised by a person and you do surprise me.” Ned wasn’t sure how to take that so he just decided to walk away.

**~*~*~**

As soon as Ned had sent a letter off to Cat in the Riverlands, he sat Sansa down and told her the truth. She was tentative but became more and more animated the longer he spoke to her about his and Lady Olenna’s arrangement. She readily agreed to marrying Loras, and promised that despite her love for Margaery, she would dedicate herself to making a home with him at Black Sable and that they would produce children together, at least three she hoped but she would hash that out with Loras herself she said. Ned nodded in agreement, that would be between her and her husband.

“Father?” Sansa said after she had taken a moment to think over her plans for the future.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” Sansa replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He accepted the gratitude and affection as his daughter walked away to find Arya and tell her the news. Ned still was unsure and it didn’t totally sit well with him but his priority was making sure Sansa was safe.

They all agreed on a double wedding held in King’s Landing before the foursome travelled to Storm’s End and Black Sable. The process of planning the wedding was an overly stressful one, mostly because Robert wanted to throw a lavish and expensive event, even though he was never so close to Renly. Ned did not want to dig the crown even deeper in debt but Baelish whispered away in Robert’s ear. The Tyrells put forth money to fund the event and so did Robb and Bran since neither of them would be able to make it for the wedding, but Cat attended.

Sansa looked beautiful walking down the aisle next to Margaery towards Renly and Loras. She wore a dress in Northern-style, pure ivory with grey accents so even when Loras removed her maiden-cloak, she was still in Stark colors.

“She looks happy.” Catelyn commented later as they stood in the Great Hall for the reception. Sansa, Margaery, Loras and Renly were all still at the high table, their heads pressed together intimately in conversation. Sansa had her arm through the crook of Lady Margaery’s, smiling softly at her. Ned wondered that he hadn’t noticed the look in her eye before now. He looked at Catelyn, wondering if she noticed. She was very observant, his Cat, but something like this, her beliefs would never allow room for it. It wasn’t as persecuted under the Old Gods, but wasn’t accepted either. Ned could not tell (he briefly wondered if his time away from her had rendered him unable to read his wife but pushed that aside). Cat only had eyes for their daughter, the candlelight giving the red-haired girl even more radiance.

“She does look very happy.” Ned replied, snapping Catelyn out of her trance.

“I think I’m going to stay here for a while.” Ned looked at Cat, surprised but not upset.

“But Bran—”

“Needs some time away from me, Uncle Brynden thinks. He’s probably right, he needs to start being independent, he is the future Lord of the Riverlands now. Sansa will be gone from here but Arya will not, she’s getting in age. It’ll be time for her to marry soon. I think I need to be here with her and with you. I’ve gone too many nights without my husband by my side already.” Catelyn explained, her voice lowering on her last two sentences. Ned let a smile grace his lips and he met his wife’s eyes, desire visible in them.

“I couldn’t agree more.”


	5. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike with the other chapters, this chapter covers events over the span of a year and a half.

Ned had never worried much about Arya doing anything reckless when it came to romance like her brothers' impromptu marriages (intentioned or not) and she didn't show any signs of being affected by the Lady's Kiss like Sansa, not making friends with the ladies of court as closely as Sansa and Margaery had been, despite her friendships with Lady Shireen, Meria Sand and Ora Storm. Arya's head seemed focused on fighting and little else. Even with so many new pseudo-royal children inundating the castle, she seemed undaunted about taking seriously her weapons training. Catelyn did not like it one bit but Ned would not stop her from her training. However, Catelyn would not have her unmarried forever, and truthfully, Ned wouldn't let it be so either. Mostly because Robert had been eyeing Arya more and more lately. She had a woman's body now at six and ten and looked more and more like Lyanna every day, so much so even Ned had to do a double take sometimes and remind himself his sister was dead.

He did not want Robert to propose something insane, such as betrothing himself to Arya in order to produce a legitimate heir. It had taken long negotiations and a lot of blustering to finally convince Robert to see things Ned’s way and let Cersei and her bastard sons live off their days exiled, send Ser Jaime Lannister to the Wall and leave Princess Myrcella with her future husband’s family but it had created a rift between the two of them larger than had been present since the days of the Rebellion when Robert commended Lord Tywin for the slaughter of Princess Elia and her children. Ned did not want that gulf to grow any larger. He would not allow Robert to take Arya for his wife, as his replacement for Lyanna and he did not want to have to go against him once more.

So, when Catelyn proudly came forward saying she had all but secured a match for Arya which she felt was the best fit for her, Ned was open-minded.

"I have accepted that she will never be the lady I want her to be, but she is still a lady and she must have her future secured. I have done much thinking and taken all considerations and I have been in serious talks with Shiera Dayne, the mother of Edric Dayne."

Ned knew the boy. He was Lord Beric's squire and of an age with Arya. They seemed to get along with each other from Ned's observations. He was one of the few boys who sparred with Arya unflinchingly. He did not sneer when she wore breeches or leathers or pieces of armor on her wardrobe. He didn't act maliciously when she breezed into the castle, covered with dirt and smelling of horses. Arya did not completely shut down his attentions as she had every other boy, besides some Flea Bottom lads that he had seen her run around with and she had a friendship with Gendry as well, Robert's eldest male bastard and possible heir to the throne other than Edric Storm.

"I have seen Arya and Edric together. He will let her be herself, don't you think? She can still fight all she would like to, but she will also run his household, as a lady should." Ned smiled at Catelyn as her back was turned. She talked a good game of wanting her children to adhere strictly to their roles and what she had been raised to view them as, but he knew ultimately it was their happiness she cared for the most. She would not suggest Edric if she truly thought Arya would be miserable with him.

Still, Ned was hesitant to make any decisions. In a way, this was unchartered territory for him. He hadn't made Robb's match nor Jon's or even Theon's. He had maneuvered Sansa's, but that was different. He knew how her marriage would turn out and the workings behind the scenes of the matches he made. Matching Arya felt... strange, different but also familiar. Arya reminded him a lot of Lyanna, and not only in looks but she also had that fire in her. On top of that, she had a righteous anger and ferocity that reminded Ned completely of Brandon. He remembered his siblings' reactions at learning through a public announcement that they were betrothed. Their father hadn't even talked to them in private beforehand. He couldn't do that to Arya. Catelyn was not hard to convince to talk to their daughter first.

Suffice to say, Arya was not pleased.

"I will not marry him! I won't!" She shouted indignantly, glaring across the room at Ned and Catelyn as they sat patiently on the bed in her room.

"Arya, think on the benefits. You know one another so you won't marry a stranger. He accepts you for who you are. He is from an old family of noble and rich blood. He even follows the Old Gods as well as the New, they have a weirwood at Starfall." Catelyn replied patiently. Arya began shaking her head vigorously.

"I won't. I don't love him. He's a friend, a companion, practically a brother. It'd be like marrying Bran or Rickon."

"Well, he isn't your brother. He's an eligible lord of age with you and a perfectly acceptable match. His mother agrees." Catelyn replied, annoyance filtering into her voice. She had been arguing back and forth with Arya for over five minutes now, their fight going 'round in circles as Ned sat and listened.

"I don't love him! I don't see him that way!"

"You may not love him now but love grows with time. You think love just happened to your father and I? We were strangers when we married. Love didn't just happen, we built it slowly over time."

"I don't want to build love with Edric. He's not... I don't... you can't make me."

"I don't want to make you, but you cannot remain an unmarried woman at court your whole life. People will talk."

"Let them talk." Arya replied petulantly.

"You're acting like a child. Stop it right this instant. You will do your duty and consider Edric seriously, Arya. I will have no less from you." Catelyn said sternly, finally losing her patience. Arya didn't say anything, but she was breathing heavily and looking for all the world like a cornered wolf ready to lash out at her enemies. But there was something else in her gaze, something horrifyingly familiar. He recognized it from Lyanna. From watching her square off with their father over her betrothal to Robert when she found out about Mya Stone. Their father had been unmovable then and Lyanna had gotten that same look in her eye, and the next he knew soon after she was gone.

Ned could not save Lyanna from her fate then, he didn't do anything when he noticed that look in her eye, but it'd be over his dead body if the same happened with Arya.

"Cat, I need to speak to Arya alone."

"Ned." She replied reproachfully. He gave her a calm look and his wife huffed before exiting the room in a flurry of frustration and poise.

He waited a few moments until he was sure Catelyn was far enough away before turning to his youngest daughter.

"What did you do, Arya?" His daughter stared at him, her grey eyes matching his own but holding the defiance of her aunt and uncle before her.

"I don't know what you mean." Ned stared her down quietly and watched as Arya's aloofness slowly crumbled in the silence of his look. It was a handy trick, this look, one he learned from his father. He watched Arya stand up straighter, putting on an air of bravado that Ned saw right through.

"I can't marry Edric Dayne. His family will never allow it at any rate once they know the truth." Ned felt like a warning horn was blaring in his head, but he pressed on.

"What truth?" Arya seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before standing even straighter, as if to appear taller but even sitting on the bed he and her were eye to eye, his daughter was shorter than the average woman.

"I am ruined. I am not a maiden." Ned stared at her, trying to find some lie in the words. It'd be a desperate attempt, but a card Arya would pull if she thought it would save her a betrothal she did not want.

"Arya, that is a serious claim to make. A lie like that cannot be taken back so if you're not telling me the truth—"

"I'm with child." Ned froze completely then, some part of his brain shutting down and not allowing him to speak.

"I... I noticed that I've favored lemon cakes a lot lately. I hate lemon cakes, but I haven't been able to stomach my favorite, fig cake. I've been sick in the mornings and I haven't had my moon-blood in nearly four months. I would've gone to the maesters already to confirm but I could not find one who I thought would keep the secret from you and Mother, and though I could've bought the Grand Maester's silence, his hands wander and I could not think of a convincing lie for why I'd stabbed him this time and no other... and my stomach is different. It's growing. That's why I haven't been sparring as much lately." Ned stared at his daughter, his brain still seemingly unable to cooperate with him and allow words to leave him. He tried to see any discernable differences in her. She wore loose tunics often so he couldn't tell if her stomach changed at all. He noticed the changes in her eating habits but hadn't questioned it. He continued to stare at her, watching her shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Father? Say something."

"Who?" Ned asked when his mouth finally regained ability to move. Arya shook her head.

"I can't. You'll kill him."

"I might." Ned replied honestly, still somewhat in shock. Arya had been the one he hadn't had to worry for in this regard and now his unwed child was unwed but bedded and pregnant on top of that.

Ned stared at Arya a moment more before getting up and walking towards the door. He wanted nothing more then than to find Robert and drink beyond propriety.

"Father?" Arya called. Ned paused and turned to look at his daughter. She was staring at him wide-eyed, looking more a child then than ever.

"Are you... are you angry with me?" She asked, though he thought that was not what she wanted to ask. Ned took a moment to think. He was not angry, not then but he was also in shock so maybe that part hadn't set in yet.

"Not angry. I am disappointed, I won't lie. But I am not angry. We will talk more about this once I have had time to think. But you will be the one telling your mother." He saw Arya shudder and grimace at the thought. Ned felt a little satisfaction at that. He wasn't angry, but he also wasn't going to be the one to face Catelyn's wrath when she found out this news.

Catelyn had not taken it well at all. She was furious. She demanded to know the name of the man who sullied her daughter, but Arya remained steadfast in her resolve to say nothing. Ned had a shortlist, but he reserved judgement. It spread through court quickly and eventually a raven arrived from Shiera Dayne putting a pause on negotiations for their children's betrothal but both Ned and Catelyn knew they would not hear from her again, not for this.

Arya was pleased at that but not pleased at the estrangement her pregnancy caused between herself and her mother. Catelyn wanted Arya to drink moon tea before word spread around court and she refused. Catelyn wanted to know who the father was, but even with a promise that no one else would know, Arya would not talk. Catelyn wanted Arya to leave court and have the child at Winterfell or even at Riverrun, Arya would not leave her friends in the capital. Ned was sure it was down to not wanting to leave her lover.

Ned, for his part, felt stuck in the middle. He wouldn't force Arya to do anything but mayhaps his lax enforcement of rules on her had led her to this place. He had been so focused on her not becoming Lyanna that, in some ways, she became her anyway: young and pregnant and alienated from the world.

People whispered vile things behind Arya's back but she had never cared about that before. It was taxing on her now that she couldn't swing a sword and release the tension, Ned could see it in the set of her shoulders. She still had her regular friends. Shireen, Meria and Ora were even closer to her now that she was confined inside with them. She could still be seen sometimes with Gendry. Edric didn't seem offended by Arya's state or their broken betrothal and still remained her companion. Ned suspected Edric may know who the father was but did not betray Arya to anyone.

Sansa and Jon arrived at court soon enough, sans their spouses. Ned was almost in contortions internally because he never wanted Jon in this place and he hadn't even said he was coming, but Arya didn't look surprised to see either of them. It was likely that she called them to her and because it was Arya, they came.

Sansa helped to bridge the gap between Arya and Catelyn that Ned could not figure out how to mend. Jon remained stalwart by Arya's side, playing the role of her protector, her confidant and her big brother all in one. Arya didn't seem as ill-at-ease waddling the halls with her ever growing stomach with at least two of her siblings there.

Arya gave birth to a girl a week after her sixteenth nameday. The babe who Arya named Dyanna for reasons Ned can only guess, had dark brown, almost black, hair and bright blue eyes, as most babes do at birth. All Ned could think was that she was a squalling, screaming delight. Sansa and Jon were instantly mystified by the babe, having no children of their own yet. For all her anger, Catelyn was in love with her granddaughter immediately. Ned wasn't far behind.

Most days, it was hard for him to put the girl down, even though he knew he ought to or risk spoiling her prematurely. He spent long moments looking at her face, studying her features in the following weeks. Catelyn thought her eyes were Tully blue but Ned knew better. He'd been staring at Baratheon eyes for most of his life and on closer inspection the darkness of the child's hair wasn't like Jon's or Arya's or Benjen's as Ned had thought but it was Baratheon dark, like Renly and Robert and Gendry.

Robert, for his part, was not daunted by the birth of Arya's bastard and didn't pay much attention to the child at all. He pursued her anyway, almost openly courting her. Arya hated it but wouldn't leave court and Ned was sure he knew why.

Dyanna was only ten moons when Arya announced she was pregnant once more, this time in front of Robert and many others and if that wasn't enough of a declaration that his affections and attentions weren't returned then nothing else would be.

Ned and Catelyn had talked long and hard afterwards before going to Arya.

"I won't drink moon tea." She said immediately upon seeing them.

"I won't ask you to." Catelyn replied quietly, moving to the crib where Dyanna laid asleep.

"What you did, announcing yourself in front of the court, was a foolish thing." Catelyn admonished.

"Because people will talk?" Arya sneered back.

"No, because it put you in danger. Because Robert is a king who has been cuckolded by his previous wife and cannot be trusted to think straight."

"I'm neither his wife nor his betrothed, no matter what he deluded himself into believing. He never wanted me anyway, he just wanted Aunt Lyanna." Arya replied.

"Be that as it may, it was still dangerous. You cannot remain this way, unwedded and now pregnant with a second child."

"Mother—" Catelyn held up a hand to silence her.

"That is why I think you should marry him."

"Who?"

"Whoever the father of your children is. Marry him. Please Arya, for my sake. I won't ask what your arrangement with him is but however you need to do it, marry him."

"I... I can't."

"Why not?" Catelyn asked, practically pleading.

"Because what he may be heir to, what he may become, I can't... I'm not... I'm not suited to go there with him. I don't want to go there with him to become what he must become." Catelyn didn't understand but Ned did. It made sense. Arya didn't want to be a lady most days, she'd never want to be queen and Gendry was as good as Robert's heir.

"Sometimes we must become things we don't wish to be. I didn't wish to be Lord of Winterfell or Lord Hand but sometimes things must be done for the good of others, if not ourselves." Ned replied, giving Arya a knowing look. She stiffened a little at it but eventually nodded.

Robert wasn't happy to learn it was Gendry who had "stolen his one chance at love anew" away from him and openly declared he'd never gain anything from him, neither a title nor a keep or a name. Gendry didn't seem overly concerned about it. They travelled to Winterfell for the wedding. Arya was determined to be wed before a weirwood tree in the traditions of the Old Gods. Instead of removing her Stark cloak for a Baratheon one though, Ned removed the Stark cloak from her, placed a new cloak featuring a grey wolf with bull’s horns, blowing frost from its nostrils on a field of deep blue on the two's shoulders and they were then declared Arya and Gendry Wolfhorn, a cadet house of House Stark just like House Karstark of Karhold and House Stark of Blackguard.

It was Arya's choice to go on to the Gift before giving birth rather than return South. Robb decided to have Moat Cailin passed to Arya's new cadet branch since he was already restoring the ancient keep and had not decided who would occupy it. Arya decided she wanted to meet and be among the Wildlings who became Jon's people in the Gifts before being tied to her own holdfast and responsibilities. Catelyn didn't like it, but Ned thought it was more from being separated from Arya and Dyanna than Arya going to be with Jon or the Wildings. However, his wife did smile to learn of the birth of Arya and Gendry's twins, a boy and girl she named Edderion and Jonelle and Ned smiled too, feeling like he had finally balanced some great debt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funnily enough, this was the first chapter I wrote.


	6. Bran

_Where did the time go?_ Ned thought to himself as he stood amongst the crowd, watching as Bran was being sworn in and inducted as Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident.

Time did not always seem like it passed in King's Landing. Sometimes, he thought of his boys as standing still with him gone and never aging. It always struck him as passing odd to see Robb, a proper lord now with three children, governing and treating with other lords and even princes and magisters from Essos who were older than him and commanding respect, admiration and esteem from these people or Jon, no longer getting his back up about insults but being diplomatic and tactful, a man grown.

Between the two of his boys and their inner circles, the North was more united than it had ever been, the entire region from Starks to Boltons to Karstarks to Umbers to Wildlings to the Night’s Watch, united against a common threat from the North, a coalition fighting together, an emerging combat force. Ned wished the rest of the realm had more involvement in the war in the North. He heard stories already of the skirmishes between the Northern forces and the Army of the Dead. Robb and Jon, the Young Wolf and the White Wolf, were already making names for themselves as military commanders and so was Arya, the Night Wolf they called her. Between the Northern forces and support from the Ironborn courtesy of Theon, the war was still manageable, but House Baratheon of Storm’s End was coalescing an army to send North and House Tyrell had committed to coming to the aid of their in-laws through supplies and food if not men. Robert had still not seen to pledging royal forces to the cause. Now was the time he cared about the debt the crown was in, even though it was significantly less than it was when Petyr Baelish was still Master of Coin rather than Baelor Hightower. Ned was keeping an ear to the North for any turn of tide that would require intervention.

He could hear stories of Robb, Jon and Arya’s leadership skills and battle prowess, he exchanged letters frequently with Sansa and could get up to date news of her life and Rickon was in the capital with him and Catelyn, but Bran was another story. Oft times when Ned thought of Bran, the image that came to mind was the boy who could be found scrambling along the walls of Winterfell, or even the preteen who was still all smiles of mischief when last Ned saw him three years prior but that was not the person before him.

He was not a child anymore but a man of five and ten now, a year younger than Robb was when Ned left the North. He was tall, Ned could tell even as he sat in his wheelchair, with hair more brownish-red nowadays like Robb’s and the same bright blue Tully eyes. His voice was strong and deeper than Ned had ever heard it and it rung through the room with clarity as he took his vows. Even watching him, Ned still couldn't quite reconcile it with the squirrely little boy who used to scale the walls of Winterfell or the frail, broken thing confined abed, dwarfed by furs, that Ned had left behind five years prior. He was a man now and Ned had missed it as he made that transition in his life because he had been in King's Landing and Bran had been at the Eyrie and Riverrun.

His thoughts must’ve shown on his face as Catelyn squeezed his hand to garner his attention. She gave him a reassuring smile and it forced him to return it.

“He is alright, he is strong. Stop worrying, take this moment to celebrate with our boy.” Ned nodded in agreement and pushed the disheartening thoughts away to once again survey the room. The sentiment in it did seem to veer towards the positive. Bran, being an outsider and a cripple, could face a difficult reign filled with rebellion and questions towards his legitimacy, but for the moment the major houses of the Riverlands were present and were not currently sneering at him. Some were more reserved than others, but he was being given a chance and that was more than most could expect in such a situation.

Ned did not get to speak to Bran at the feast that succeeded the official swearing in, since both of them had to play the politician and greet everyone in the room. Ned was not just there as a father but as the royal envoy representing King Robert, that meant people took what time they could to complain to him about everything from trivial matters to important concerns. Ned fielded and assured where he could, wielding and dealing much better than he would’ve five years prior. King’s Landing had changed him, he could feel it. He didn’t always like it, but it helped in situations like this one. When he had finally assured Lord Bracken that he did not know whether King Robert would plan to marry his son, Edric, to a Blackwood over a Bracken (not that Ned would ever allow Robert to do such a thing and risk throwing wood on the fire that burned between the two houses), he left the man to go and find Catelyn amongst the crowd. She was standing off alone, her eyes trained on Bran. He joined her and followed her gaze.

Bran was finally left to himself as the band struck up music and people began making their way to the middle of the room with their partners. Well, he was nearly alone. There was a girl of his age sitting next to him. The two were conversating and laughing amongst themselves. She was a fine-looking girl, her forehead was a bit large, her eyes slightly too far apart and her lips a little pinched but she also possessed warm brown eyes, a small chin and a heart-shaped face. Not the prettiest girl in the room but by no means homely either. Catelyn was giving her a look though, a judgmental look. He recognized it from the first time he had seen her with Dacey and Gendry, unsure and cautious of their children’s partner. Ned knew it was best if Bran married a girl of the Riverlands and it was mostly Riverlords present to witness him. It would be better to hold off on making any decisions in the way of marriage until he was more settled into his role as lord, but Ned was still curious about this girl.

“Who is she? Do we like her?” Catelyn gave him a look at his gentle teasing.

“She is Lady Cynthea Frey. She is Lord Walder Frey’s granddaughter. She was a ward of Lady Anya Waynwood at the Vale and she and Bran were at the Eyrie together when he was there as Uncle Brynden’s ward. They are friends, Bran says.”

Ned noted how displeased Cat sounded. He was not as well-versed in matters of the Riverlands as he would like to be. He knew the most important parts: the names of houses, their sigils and words, their current rulers and their families. He knew about the animosity between the Brackens and the Blackwoods, the history of Harrenhal, the connection to the history of the First Men but he was also aware of the derision the Freys were met with. Even Catelyn had a low opinion of the family. Ned remembered that Lord Walder arrived late to the Trident, the battle all but over when his force rode in. Bran was learning all about the history of the Riverlands and its families in order to rule over the land, but he would not have grown up with prejudice against the family as native Rivermen did.

“Is it so bad, this friendship? Will it not help unite the Riverlands?” Catelyn gave him another look at that.

“If it was just a friendship, maybe so, but look at them.” Ned tuned back into the two of them. Lady Cynthea was explaining something and Bran was entirely engrossed in what she said. He replied to her, causing her to laugh and reach over to pat his leg affectionately. It wasn't in a simpering way but was rather genuine. Summer, who laid before them protectively (preventing any more lords from approaching Bran) did not react except to turn to the girl, who bestowed a gentle hand on him, scratching behind the direwolf's ear. He was comfortable with her.

There was definitely something going on between the teens, but it appeared innocent and not improper. A part of Ned felt ashamed that he could not pick up on something like that immediately. So long had he been away from his son that he could not read something that to Catelyn seemed so obvious, but that was more of a consequence of both separation and Cat and Bran’s closeness. Cat would deny it, but she and Bran had a bond different from her connection with the rest of their children. She could read him easily, just like Ned could read Arya in a way Cat could not. He wondered if Catelyn ever felt a pang of covetousness about him and Arya's relationship as he did now with she and Bran. He did not bother to dwell on those thoughts, what was done was done.

“She is of the Riverlands and a marriage with a lady of these lands would be best.”

“It would be, but a Frey?”

“Is there a better option? To marry Bethany Blackwood or any of Lord Jonos’ five daughters would bring Bran problems from the opposing family that are best avoided. Lady Whent has no living children. Lord Darry’s daughters are already married. House Mallister, House Piper, House Ryger and House Vance of Atranta have only male children. That leaves House Frey, House Mooton and House Vance of Wayfarer’s Nest.”

“I hear Eleanor Mooton is betrothed to Dickon Tarly, but she does have a younger sister and Lord Karyl Vance has three daughters. Any of them would be suitable.”

“Undoubtably, but what is the advantage of marrying a Mooton or a Vance over a Frey?”

“As you said, it would be beneficial to marry a lady of the Riverlands.”

“Yes, but it won’t further his position more than marrying a Frey. You know Lord Walder better than I, is he likely to support Bran or is he more liable to oppose him?” Catelyn scoffed lightly.

“Either or neither, depending on how it benefits him."

"Will he be more likely to support Bran if his granddaughter is the Lady of Riverrun?"

"Maybe." Catelyn answered reluctantly before continuing.

"Lord Walder will be a hold out, I think. He’s been trying to marry into my family for years. He has all but married his brood into every house around Westeros he could find because he, and I quote, 'needs to be rid of some children since they seem to pile up'.” Ned observed Bran with Lady Cynthea again.

They looked comfortable with one another and looked at the other with care. He did not know if they were in love or not, he could ask Bran about that later, but…

“They look happy together.” Ned noted. Catelyn sighed after a moment.

“They do. Happiness is not the most important thing though.”

“No, but they could be a good match, her last name not withstanding. But she won’t be a Frey if she were to marry Bran, she would be a Ravenclaw.” The name was what Bran chose for his house to be called. It was largely a negotiation to not push into the Riverlords face that they were ruled by a Northmen now, but Bran’s house was still technically a cadet house of House Stark of Winterfell.

“It would force Bran to have to spend his life tied to that family.”

“Walder Frey is an old man, I doubt Bran would have to deal with him his entire life. It would be down to Bran. Maybe, as someone removed from the situation, he is the best person to try to mend bridges between the Freys and the rest of the Riverlands. With what horrors exist now to the North, any division is a liability that cannot be afforded.”

“I just want to protect him. All of these lords will try to get their piece of him, sink their claws in him and pull him every which way to try to get what they want out of him, use him for their own ends. Walder Frey would be the worst of them. Lady Cynthea is not her grandfather, that is true, but…” Catelyn trailed off and Ned leaned over to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, mindful of propriety in their setting.

“I will speak to Bran later and get the measure of the situation. I also am interested in his plans for his future. I will be sure to report back to you whatever information I am able to procure.” Catelyn nodded, momentarily satisfied.

“Perhaps now you can stop glaring at the girl and dance with me instead.” Cat turned her glare on him but allowed him to take her out onto the floor.

It had been longer than he would like to admit since he danced with his wife. Even though, left up to Robert, there would be a feast at King’s Landing every week, with Baelor Hightower on his side he was able to curb Robert’s more extravagant demands. It was peaceful for him and Cat to simply sway to the music with the occasional spin, but they were largely in a world of their own.

When the night was winding down and the guests were slowly leaving the hall for their lodgings, Ned elected to be the one to escort Bran back to his room, giving Cat quiet reassurance that he would join her after he had spoken to Bran.

"How are you feeling about today?" Ned asked as the father and son, along with Summer, made their way towards Bran's bedroom.

"Good. I think it went well." Ned nodded in agreement.

"No nerves?"

"No, I haven't felt nervous about it at all. Is that strange?"

"No. I think it's more of a blessing than an oddity. It's a big task ahead of you, one that won't be easy and may not always be rewarding, but I think you can handle it. I have faith in you." Bran smiled up at him as he rolled along in his chair.

"Thanks Father."

"Have you started to give any thought to what your main concerns will be?"

"Great Uncle Brynden has been advising me. He tells me that even though I will be lord, I should pick my battles wisely and know which ones will be worth fighting and which ones will just be unnecessary losses. I hope to mend the rift between the Brackens and the Blackwoods. They are both descendants of the First Men and I have a feeling their help will be invaluable when the War for the Dawn reaches its climax, but I know this has been attempted more than once, even through marriage. The peace never lasts, so perhaps I'll put that on the backburner for when I have more time to work at it. I want to fortify our borders, especially with the Westerlands. For the time being the Lannisters are docile enough, but I do not want to take the risk that Lord Tywin is just licking his wounds after the humiliation he suffered and will not attempt an attack to restore his house's legacy and reputation. Besides, bandits slip in from the region too frequently to attack the outlying villages. They are brought to justice, but I'd rather stop it and not just avenge it. Winter is coming, the larders need to be built up so everyone can survive it, food preserved, harvested, bought and stored. Above all, I need to start building a fighting force to go north. That means convincing the lords and ladies that the threat is real and the Night King will come for us if we don't fight together now. I've been to the Isle of Faces, I've spoken to the Green Man and I know what's coming, it will be a matter of convincing skeptics, especially followers of the Seven. I suspect they will be more difficult than those who have the blood of the First Men running strong in their veins." Ned listened, slightly awed at Bran's maturity. He was already thinking ahead and doing so strategically and smartly.

"Well, ours is the old way. Some followers of the New Gods might find it all fanciful folly. Hopefully your brothers might be able to procure some visual evidence for the naysayers. I believe you are thinking in the Riverlands' best interest. There will be more to consider in the future: infrastructure, planning for winter, marriage." Bran's cheeks turned redder under the candlelight and Ned knew it wasn't just the fire's glow.

"Surely it's too soon for that."

"Yes, I believe it's early to get married. It would be better to work on establishing yourself. That's not to say it can't be done. Your mother and I were married as I was learning to be Lord of Winterfell, but those were special circumstances. Still, it isn't too early to begin to think of prospects. Betrothals can last years." Bran nodded, an air of awkwardness hanging over him.

"Well, obviously a girl of the Riverlands would be best."

"Obviously." Ned replied, amusement alighting his face as Summer huffed beside Bran, seemingly with exasperation.

"There are a few viable options."

"Your mother and I thought so."

"Mother? Did she mention... What did she think?"

"She thought Lord Mooton's younger daughter could be an option."

"Lady Elyn is two years older than me."

"There have been larger age gaps."

"It's unlikely her betrothal isn't already all but set." Ned rose an eyebrow at Bran's emphatic protests but continued.

"She also mentioned the Vances of Wayfarer's Nest." Bran shook his head.

"Lady Liane is currently her father's heir, so she is a poor choice. Lady Rhialta is rumored to be betrothed to Marq Piper."

"Cat says he has three daughters." Ned pointed out.

"Lady Emphyria is... certainly she is very beautiful, but... She... She isn't--"

"She isn't Cynthea Frey." Bran stopped wheeling and stared at him, mouth agape.

"I saw you two together in the hall."

"Did Mother say...?"

"She says she is your friend."

"She is, my best friend. Everything was so strange at the Eyrie. Getting around with the chair was hard and Robin wasn't exactly understanding. Aunt Lysa coddles him and doesn't correct him when he is blunt or inappropriate. Most everyone looked at me with pity or avoided looking at me at all, like if they ignored me it would make me feel better than being stared at. Cynthea spoke to me, like I was a person and she understood what it was like to be mocked by people for something you can't control. People look at her a certain way just because she is a Frey, including Mother, but she can't help who her family is. Just because they might be seen as a certain thing, doesn't mean it's true for every single one of their family. Jaime and Cersei Lannister aren't good people, and neither is Lord Tywin, but you wouldn't allow Princess Myrcella to be killed because you knew that the sins of the parent shouldn't hang over the child for their whole life. If that were the case, why should Sansa be married to Loras Tyrell when you and Mace Tyrell were on opposite sides of the Rebellion?"

"Bran, I understand where you're coming from. But honestly? It's not me you have to convince of anything. Whether your mother will change her mind, I can't know, but this isn't something I'm telling you to think of from the point of view of our son but from the viewpoint of the Lord Paramount of the Trident. If you believe a marriage, however far down the line, to Lady Cynthea is the best thing to be done for your reign, then you should do it but I also acknowledge, and you should be aware, that whatever you decide, your feelings cannot be entirely extricated from it." Bran looked down at his lap, picking at his pants.

"I think... I think I love her. I don't know, it's hard to tell. I do know that I would be happy to spend my life with her, even if just as my friend."

"That is more than most arranged marriages can hope for. To be friends, to be a team, is the best way for a marriage to work but having love between two people does make it all the easier. Even so, it's a lot to think about. I don't want you to feel rushed to make a decision either way. Take your time, you can afford to do that, and make the best choice for yourself and your people, not for your mother or me." Ned advised, holding onto Bran's shoulder comfortingly. Bran nodded after a moment before smiling up at him.

"Thanks Father. Thanks for understanding." Ned returned the smile, a lance of satisfaction going through him. He was glad that after all the years that passed, he was still able to connect with his son on some level.

Months later when Bran's betrothal to Lady Cynthea Frey was officially announced, Ned was not surprised but he did find himself content with Bran's choice, even if Catelyn was just about pulling her hair out over it.


	7. Rickon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickon was a blind spot for Ned, but being the contrarian he was, he would pick Dorne to decide to finally develop an interest in girls.

Rickon had always been a blind spot for Ned when he thought of the boy's future. He ran wild, even now at four and ten, and he showed no signs of stopping. He and Catelyn had brought him to the capital in the hopes that he would calm down, even just a little, but he was just as likely to go off running into mischief and getting into wrestling matches as he was when he was at Winterfell with Robb and Dacey. Robb’s description of him still rang in Ned’s head sometimes,

_“A wild banshee of a child with little to no rearing…”_

Ned had long since stopped trying to tame the boy, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. Even Catelyn had thrown in the towel and accepted they were raising a wolf, not a boy. Rickon was the only child that remained to them, with his older siblings married and having their own households. Rickon was still unbetrothed, mostly because the stories of his wildness had spread past the city and there were few families willing to wed their daughter to him. Lyanna Mormont could’ve been an option, but she was now betrothed to Ned Umber. Catelyn tried to negotiate a betrothal between Rickon and Lady Shireen, but Stannis would not wed his heiress to a third son with no lands or titles. They had even tried with Rennora Rykker, Lord Renfred Rykker of Duskendale’s daughter. He offered to have a keep in the Crownlands renovated for them and to negotiate a low dowry, but when Lord Renfred was in the capital negotiating with Ned, he had the misfortune of witnessing Rickon and Shaggydog attack Ser Balon Swann in the training yards and had decided he was not who he wanted in a goodson.

Rickon reminded Ned of Brandon a lot. He resembled Robb in looks, but he could be as wild and rowdy as his deceased uncle could. They were both prone to fighting and quick tempered with sharp tongues that got them into trouble. Unlike Brandon though, Rickon was not focused on girls, but on his training. He was becoming a fearsome fighter. He was already tall for his age and toned from the hours spent with the master-at-arms. He trounced all the squires and fledgling knights in the practice yards with ease.

There was more than one drawback Ned saw from Rickon's behavior, but perhaps the most damaging one was his lack of friends. He was already set apart for being a Northman in a place where there were few. Ned knew some of the fights he was involved in was due to teasing from others about his heritage, his religion, his accent. He was the Hand of the King’s son, which meant people were trying to get close to him so they could gain some notoriety or valuable information by way of association, but Rickon had been a quick learner and figured out how to weed those people out and keep them at arm’s length. He was at an age where many of the youths living at court were either at least five years older than him or five years younger and it was hard to find his place among them and he didn’t want to. He hated King’s Landing more than Ned did, perhaps more than Arya had as well.

He was not totally friendless. He had a companionship with Prince Edric, but Edric was twenty to Rickon’s fourteen and so they only had so much in common. His closest friends were Monterys and Perros, the son of Lord Monford Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark, and the son of Lady Larra of Blackmont, respectively. Lord Monford took up residence at the Red Keep as the new Master of Laws after Renly’s resignation and Perros was a squire to Ser Arys Oakheart. It was not strange to find Rickon, his auburn curls shining in the sunlight, between a head of bushy black locks and another of silver-gold waves. Catelyn was wary of anything Rickon did, but Ned was glad he had some friends, even if he had difficulty making others.

Rickon, despite his wildness, did not ask or beg for anything from his parents. He grew independent from a young age. Maybe that was because they left him with Robb when he was eight years old, and only took him back again at twelve. Robb and Dacey had cared for him in the four years Ned had used to focus on keeping the realm together and Catelyn used to help groom Bran to rule over the Riverlands, but they were not his parents. If Rickon wanted something, he usually found some other means to get it without asking his parents. He did not expect attention or anything else from them. It partly hurt that their son did not depend on them, but Ned did his best not to confuse his independence with a lack of trust in him or Cat. Still, if Rickon ever did ask him for anything he didn't think he would be able to deny him, so when he came to him asking to go to Dorne, he was only slightly reluctant.

"For what reason?" He asked, not allowing his voice to reflect any judgement.

"Perros’ sister, Jynessa, is getting married to Ser Rolland of House Caron. He is a friend of Ser Aurane, so Lord Monford is letting Monty go to the wedding with his uncle. I don't want to be here alone. Can I please go with them?" Ned and Catelyn shared a look at that. They had tried, ever since they took back custody of Rickon, to not separate again. They took him with them to Bran's induction as Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident. He joined them for the tourney at Black Sable in celebration of Sansa and Ser Loras' firstborn. He joined them for the progress Ned made through the Westerlands and the Iron Islands to try to smooth over the crown's relationship with the two regions after Lord Tywin and Lord Balon's untimely deaths and Lord Tyrion and Theon taking the mantles of Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord of the Iron Islands respectively. Ned was not comfortable with sending Rickon off to Dorne without him, even if under the supervision of Ser Aurane.

"When is this wedding?" Catelyn asked.

"A moon and a half, but Ser Aurane is leaving in a fortnight by ship. I wish to join him, it'll be faster than riding." A fortnight gave Ned enough time to put things in order. He and Cat shared another look and she nodded imperceptibly.

"Alright, but I am coming with you." Rickon's lip screwed in displeasure for a moment before he shrugged.

"Okay. I'm going to go and tell Monty and Perros now." The parents watched their youngest run off before turning to one another again.

"Dorne?" Catelyn asked dubiously.

"It's for a wedding.”

“Ser Rolland… surely he cannot mean the bastard of Nightsong? Dorne has… queer practices when it comes to bastards, but is not Lady Jynessa heir to Blackmont by Dorne’s laws of succession? Is not a bastard beneath her?” Catelyn questioned cautiously. He had told her the truth about Jon after Bran’s induction. She had been furious with him and hadn’t spoken to him for close to two moons. There was still tension between them sometimes, but she had taken to assessing her stance on bastards among other beliefs she held in the past year. Old ways of thinking died hard though. Ned shrugged lightly.

“As you say, Dorne views bastards differently than the other Seven Kingdoms. They have greater opportunities available to them. As the heir to Blackmont, Lady Jynessa won’t take her husband’s name and neither will their children. Perhaps it is just easier if her husband has no name to take.”

“Dorne has been so close to us all these years and yet sometimes it feels as far away and foreign as any country in Essos.”

“It is no more dangerous or foreign than trekking through the Westerlands and the Iron Islands were. I will be with him. What’s the worst that can happen at a wedding? Besides, he has never asked us for anything besides this. How can we deny him?" Catelyn still looked doubtful but said no more.

**~*~*~**

The journey to Blackmont had been as smooth as Ned assured Catelyn it would be. They had had to sail the Narrow Sea in order to get to the Sea of Dorne. The Narrow Sea was famously volatile during autumn due to the frequent storms that formed where it met the Summer Sea, but Aurane captained them skillfully through rougher waters. When they reached Dorne, they had to decide whether to chance sailing through the Summer Sea until they reached the Torrentine river which would take them straight to Blackmont castle or to make land at Wyl and ride through the Red Mountains until they got to Blackmont. Both presented their own dangers, but ultimately they decided sailing was the safer option. Bandits and rogues would no doubt take advantage of the wedding to attack anyone they found traveling along the mountain passes and Ned did not want to risk putting Rickon, Monterys or Perros in danger. The boys protested, saying that at fourteen they were all old enough to fight off any attackers but neither Ned nor Ser Aurane wanted to chance it.

Ned was hit with bitter nostalgia when they passed Starfall whilst sailing. He hadn’t been there in over 20 years, not since the Rebellion back when Ashara was still alive. He reflected ironically that if they had chosen to take the mountain passes, he still would have been confronted with the darkness from his past since they would have passed the Tower of Joy. Ned did not let his mind turn to those times for too long. His eyes must look to the future, not the past.

He thought he knew heat from his time in King’s Landing, but not like Dorne. Even with autumn upon them and winter fast approaching, the sun beat down hot upon the sand. Many people thought of Dorne as a sandy wasteland. There was a lot of sand and deserts as well, but the area was not barren. Blackmont’s position upon the Torrentine gave way to fertile lands and easy access for growing food. Their gardens were full of fruit trees bearing pomegranates, lemons, blood oranges, dragonfruits, passion fruits, mangos and other exotic fruits Ned had never seen before. The castle itself was beautiful, made of black sandstone and granite. The rooms were structured in a way that allowed air in so the castle did not get overheated, along with many trees planted on the property to allow greater airflow.

The ruler of Blackmont, Lady Larra, welcomed them politely if distantly. Old sentiments from the Rebellion still held in Dorne. The North remembers but Dorne’s memory was long and grudges could take decades to abate. Lady Larra had been one of Princess Elia’s ladies-in-waiting along with Ashara and others before King Aerys dismissed them all. Her qualms along with the rest of Dorne’s towards the crown stemmed from the fate of the princess and her children. Ned could not change the past, all he could do was try to move pass it.

Lady Jynessa and Ser Rolland Storm did make a queer couple if unbalanced beside one another. Lady Jynessa was a beauty, with dark brown hair that shone in the sun, glowing brown skin and cunning black eyes. Ser Rolland’s face bore scars from the pox but that was the most notable thing about him. He looked like most Stormlanders: tall, muscular, dark-haired with blue eyes and a beard covering his jaw. Her face was usually set in a smile while his usually was in a frown. The only time Ned did see the man express any kind of levity was when Lady Jynessa was talking to him about things Ned was not privy to, so he wished the couple the best.

Most of the principal houses in Dorne and some from the Stormlands were attending the wedding. Ned had seen representatives from House Dayne, House Manwoody, House Wyl, House Allyrion, House Yronwood, House Fowler, House Caron, House Estermont, House Selmy, House Dondarrion, House Swann, House Tarly and House Peake. And of course, House Martell was present. Members of the family showed up slowly but surely. Prince Quentyn arrived with his betrothed, Lady Gwyneth Yronwood, and her family. Princess Arianne arrived with the Fowler twins and her cousins, Nymeria Sand and Obara Sand. Prince Oberyn arrived with Prince Trystane and Lady Myrcella Waters. Lord Uller brought along two of his granddaughters, the daughters of Prince Oberyn, Dorea Sand and Loreza Sand.

Ned did not foresee problems, but it was not hard to miss the looks he got from some of them. Princess Arianne appeared positively hateful and so did her elder cousins. Prince Oberyn could not hide his disdain either. The man had quite the reputation. His own brother had banished him at some point in time. Ned remained cautious. He watched what he ate given the penchant for poison in Dorne and kept a sharp eye out around himself. Rickon was not so restrained. Ned didn’t think he had seen him quite as jovial as he did here at Blackmont. He still spent a lot of time in the training yard, but unlike at King’s Landing, he interacted with other people beyond just Monterys and Perros. He still got into fights and wrestling matches but there was something more good-natured about the roughhousing than there was in the capital and so Ned was not as inclined to step in.

Beyond that though, there was the other development that Ned had to roll his eyes at. Rickon, the contrarian he was, would choose this trip to discover his interest in the opposite sex. The girls in Dorne were not as prim and proper as those in the capital. They reminded Ned of some of the ladies of the North, especially the Mormonts and the spearwives of the Freefolk. Many Dornish ladies were trained fighters, which piqued his youngest son’s interest. They also wore considerably less fabric than anywhere else and wispy, light materials so that probably helped. And Rickon was a big hit with them. Initially there was a line in the sand because he was a Stark and a northerner, but his friendship with Perros broke some of the ice and his wildness proved a source of amusement to the youth now running around Blackmont so they all fell into one another, a group of 15 or so teenagers (legitimate and bastard alike) attached at the hip, travelling around Blackmont like a pack, nigh on inseparable despite any of their parents best efforts to keep an eye on their activities. Ned especially was watchful that nothing untoward happened. He didn’t think he would be able to survive Cat’s ire if Rickon followed Robb’s footsteps and sprung a surprise wedding on her or Arya’s footsteps and sprung a baby on her. Perhaps Ned was getting ahead of himself, but after his experience with his previous children he felt he was rightfully wary. His sentiments were justified as the days went on, and it became clear Rickon did have his eyes set on someone in particular. Many young, unmarried ladies were attending the wedding, but Rickon just had to gravitate towards Oberyn Martell’s youngest bastard daughter.

“Your boy has great potential.” Ned heard beside him. He glanced over to see the prince approaching him. Speak of the devil. Ned gestured to the seat beside him and turned back to the scene in front of him.

Rickon was sparring against young Loreza while Obara Sand and Ser Aurane shouted suggestions and encouragement from the sidelines.

“Your daughter as well. They are all quite skilled.” Ned said, returning the compliment.

“I trained them myself to ensure they would be. I won’t have them be caught unawares like my sister was.”

“Would that a sword or a spear would have been enough to save mine.” Ned replied, gently reminding the man he was not the only one who lost his family during the Rebellion. He felt the man’s sharp eyes on his face but did not turn to face him.

“Indeed.” Prince Oberyn said after a silence.

“I never did like the Dragon Prince. Many were taken in by his beauty; sweet, noble _Rhaegar Targaryen_.” The Dornish prince spat his name like it was a curse. Ned could not blame him, the man’s sister died as a result of Prince Rhaegar’s actions. Ned could even empathize. There were nights when he cursed Rhaegar Targaryen’s soul to the deepest depths of hell for taking his sister away from him.

“My sister loved him, fed his children at her own breast. She ignored the insults myself and our companions lobbed at him, the teasing songs about his melancholic nature. We thought he was brooding and boring, not fit consort for her. We just didn’t understand him, she said. He felt there was something greater on the horizon for them all and she believed him, though she wouldn’t say what that thing was. She trusted him. He repaid her trust by running off with another woman, your sister.” Ned glanced over at the prince.

“A girl. Lyanna wasn’t a woman. She was eight years Rhaegar’s junior, only sixteen when she died. I didn’t know the man much better than you, but his actions just as surely killed my sister as they did yours. Lyanna was not blameless, but she wasn’t some evil seductress either. She was young and impressionable, she wanted an adventure and freedom. He managed to slip pass her defenses. She would have never wanted what happened to Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon to happen. She was not so cruel.”

Another silence stretched between the men as they watched their children spar. Rickon was fighting with live steel while Loreza used a spear. Rickon was strong where Loreza was fast and lithe and the spear gave her range. Rickon was skilled though and was able to counter her tricks and attacks. He struck hard at her, cutting the spear in two, but Loreza would not yield. She threw the longer part to the side and used the spearhead and shorter end as a makeshift sword. There was an unmistakable twinkle in Rickon’s eye when she beckoned him to continue attacking her. They continued their bout. There was a certain grace in the ebb and flow of it. Rickon was wild but practiced and Loreza's movement was fluid and familiar.

“Bravossi water dancing?” Ned asked.

“I trained with the First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos during my travels and incorporated it into my fighting. Most Westerosi would not notice such a thing, much less a Northman.”

“My daughter trained with him as well, though probably your trainer’s successor. Syrio Forel is the man’s name.”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. You allow your daughter to wield a sword? I’m surprised.” Ned snorted lightly.

“If I did not allow her, she would have done it anyway. She already had a sword. There was no point in her owning it and not knowing how to use it.”

“A practical decision. One most lords beyond Dorne take issue with.”

“I am not most lords.” Prince Oberyn let a smirk alight his lips.

“No, you are not, Lord Hand.” A yell drew their attention back to the teens. Somehow, Rickon had managed to get Loreza in a headlock, their weapons discarded to the side. Loreza threw her elbow into his stomach to try to break the hold with little success. She struggled forward a little, ignoring his demands to yield, before setting her feet, tucking her smaller body and flipping him over her shoulder. Ned was surprised at the strength the move displayed. The girl darted over to her spear while Rickon recovered and pressed the blade to his neck.

“Yield Stark, elsewise I will be throwing a wolf pelt onto my bedroom floor tonight.” Rickon stared up at her with awe before she pressed the spear closer to his face causing him to finally yield. Loreza beamed, basking in her victory, before helping him to stand.

“Where did she learn that?” Ned wondered aloud.

“Fighting off handsy boys at the Water Gardens. Something tells me your boy is different though, none of them looked at my daughter like that.” Ned looked over at the smirking prince.

“You’ve been making an effort with us, I’ve seen it. My brother would be most happy to have peace abide. I’m afraid I’ve been quite the thorn in his side with my lobbying for justice for our sister all these years.”

“Not an unworthy endeavor. I tried to do the same after her and her children’s initial deaths. I was unsuccessful. At least, retroactively, the Mountain was brought to justice, at your hand I’m told.” Ned replied cautiously.

“His head is mounted on my wall along with Amory Lorch’s, that child-murderer. I wake up to them every morning and I smile. I had a mount for Tywin Lannister ready as well, but time snatched his death away from me.”

“None for Robert?” Ned asked before he could stop himself. Dornishmen, despite the region’s reputation, spoke just as frankly as Northmen, so Ned did not mince words. Prince Oberyn shot him a secretive smirk.

“Don’t worry, I’m not plotting to kill the king.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Prince Oberyn’s smirk grew even larger.

“Still, I know it was your decision that made justice possible, not that fat, drunk cunt you call friend. So, I have a proposal.” Ned quirked his head inquiringly.

“You should allow your son to stay here in Dorne.” Ned rose an eyebrow in disbelief and surprise.

“He fits in easily enough and has made friends of the youth here. I know well enough if he fits in here, he most certainly doesn’t in King’s Landing. Elia didn’t, your sister didn’t either and neither do either of us. He can be my squire. He has much skill, but he can be even better, perhaps one of the most renowned fighters of his generation. I can help hone him and if he and my daughter just so happen to develop more than childhood infatuation, would that be so bad? Your boy is the type to want to grow up to be a traveling man like myself. Loreza will want to be that too. If they found a kindred soul in one another, even better.” Ned glanced back over at Rickon. He was talking to Loreza nervously, scratching the back of his neck, barely meeting her eyes. He’d never seen him like that.

“This is something I will need to think on and consult my wife about.”

“Of course, if I made such a decision without talking to Ellaria first for one of our daughters, I would not fare well underneath her ire. I will give you time to think.” Ned nodded in response and the two went back to observing their children dance around each other.

**~*~*~**

“You want to send him away?!” Catelyn exclaimed weeks later when Ned and Rickon had returned to King’s Landing (reluctantly on his son’s part).

“That is not what I said, Cat.”

“Then please, clarify what you mean.” His wife demanded. Ned internally winced but continued on.

“You know as well as I do that Ric is miserable here in the capital. It’s not suited to him.”

“It wasn’t suited to Arya either and she survived.” Cat retorted. Ned quirked an eyebrow.

“Arya had three children out of wedlock so we would be forced to send her away from here.” Catelyn conceded that point but shook her head.

“Still, Arya went back to the North to become a bannerwoman for Robb. We didn’t send her into a hostile region with no family around her and no prospects.”

“Rickon will have prospects. Prince Oberyn is one of the most skilled warriors in the world, not just the realm. He’s learned in both martial education and worldly education beyond my understanding. Rickon was very taken by the culture in Dorne and, surprisingly, he was embraced by the lordlings and ladies there and he made friends among them. He didn’t even want to come back. He begged me to stay longer, but I refused him.” Catelyn paused in her pacing then to look at him.

“Why would he want to stay? I know it is… difficult here. Truth be told, it is difficult for me too. I blame you for that.”

“Me?” Ned asked dubiously.

“Yes, you. All these years thinking I have managed to retain my Southern rearing and it turns out you’ve made too much of a Stark of me. I cannot stand the insipid simpering of the ladies and the vapid gossip poorly disguising nefarious intentions. I wish for once someone besides us would speak plainly and not in code or riddles.” Catelyn complained. Ned felt a smile alight his lips as he stood and approached his wife. He paused a little before touching her, remembering the tension his secret caused between them, but Cat stepped forward into his arms.

“It was a trying time here without you.” She admitted.

“I am sorry I was away as long as I was, my lady.” Ned replied, wrapping her in his embrace. Catelyn sighed and they stayed there for a moment, enjoying the other’s presence.

“You really think we should let Rickon go?” She asked.

“Truthfully? I do not want to, I would keep him here with us, but I know if I did that it would be for my own selfish reasons, not because it is what's best for him. Robb, Jon, Sansa, Arya and Bran, they're all making their own ways in the world, forging their futures, building their lives and families and households. Rickon has shown interest in precious few things but fighting. Prince Oberyn’s offer seems to be one made in earnest. Plus…”

“Plus?” Cat hedged.

“There was a girl.” She pulled back to look at him with disbelief.

“Rickon is interested in a girl?”

“One of Prince Oberyn’s daughters.”

“Aren’t his daughters all…?”

“Bastards? Yes. She is his youngest daughter, Loreza. Her mother, Ellaria Sand, is the daughter of Lord Uller of Hellholt. There doesn’t seem to be any problems there. As you know, bastards are treated differently in Dorne. The girl seemed a good match for him but they are both only fourteen and we would not be sending him to Dorne to be betrothed, but to squire and learn from Prince Oberyn.”

“And how will we ensure that Rickon won’t come back here in a year or two with a little Sand?”

“We will just have to have a long and uncomfortable conversation with him to make sure that does not happen.” Cat grimaced a little before nodding.

“If it is what he wants, then I don’t want to keep him from it. It will be hard to let him go though.”

“I know, Cat. Trust me, I know. It was hard to let all of them go, but we have to trust that we raised them properly and they are ready to face the world without us always by their side. It’s their time to live their lives.” Ned advised.

And he truly kept to that thought. He had watched his children take their first steps, heard their first words, watched them grow and learn and change and shift into adults. A part of him, the part that every parent harbored, wanted to turn back time to simpler days when they were all children and safe within Winterfell’s walls, the Heart Tree visible from his chamber windows, the smell of snow in the air, his Gods close by, safety all around him. But he would also not hinder his children, would not force them to remain by his side to serve himself. So he let them go, he let them grow. Watching their growth proved that he had every right to be proud of them. So he was not worried about Rickon, he would be fine, he would be happy and above all else, that was what Ned wanted for his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably the hardest chapter to write, but I'm so happy I managed to finish this story.


End file.
